First Kiss
by Dunno12345
Summary: This is my interpretation on Itazura Na Kiss in an American version. (Also available on Wattpad.)
1. Chapter One

**This is my interpretation of Playful Kiss/It Started With a Kiss, American-version. Disclaimer: I do not own Playful Kiss or any version of it; only the names of these characters are mine. The places I mention both may or may not exist; Aihara Highschool for one, doesn't; it's the original last name of the original character from the creator and I just wanted to incorporate it somewhere. Enjoy!**

I'm just going to hand it to him, I told myself, clutching the letter tightly between my fingers. Just hand it over and walk away.

I took a deep breath. I'd already spent weeks agonizing over the right words to put on this page, having written and rewritten them nearly a dozen times. Nothing I put down seemed to accurately encompass my feelings and I couldn't hand over a letter that fell mediocre and lame. No. It needed to be perfect. It was the difference between euphoria and a life spent wallowing in silent misery and regret.

I blew slowly out my mouth, eying the door of Aihara Highschool. The bell hadn't run yet and I hung back by the front entrance, waiting for some sign of William.

William Trenger.

It was expected to gloat over your crush; to find them good in everything they did; to dissect and recover seemingly obscure talents inside their utter failures and quirks.

This was not the case.

William Trenger had no failures; no quirks. In fact, he'd been dubbed the Prince of Aihara School for the past two years running. Will had the looks, the money, and above all, the brains. He took the head in every class and made even the most academic students appear inferior to him. The man was a genius, complete with an eidetic memory and I'm not even exaggerating. This of course made him the number one on every girl's list of romantic affection.

If crushes were a physical force rather than an emotional one, Will would've been a human pancake by this point. To my great joy, however, the passionate feelings weren't mutual.

But to my dismay, that included my own.

Luckily for me, I'd already accepted that. My expectations toed no further than graceful acknowledgement. It was a sad motive, if practically nonexistent, but I had the tendency to do things before weighing the pros and cons.

And this was a definite, huge, earthquaking con. I just didn't know that yet.

Minutes elapsed until I finally spotted him, which wasn't hard. His black hair stood out in the bright sun, in contrast with his Caucasian skin as if he hadn't seen the outside in awhile. No one walked beside him which was usual; it just further interested girls when they factored in his enigmatic and cold behavior. He was a walking puzzle many were desperate to solve.

I nearly backed out the closer he got; considered discarding this absurd idea to instead join the flock of girls who were content at gazing at him from the sidelines. But that view was in poor quality and I wanted HD.

Youre just handing it to him, Lu, I told myself. That's it. Handing.

I can do this. I can do this.

When Will was close enough, I stepped in front of him before he could pass, abruptly cutting him off.

There was an awkward moment of me blinking and trying to think until words were able to form. It took another moment for the thought-into-sound process to kick in.

"E-excuse me," I said in a really high voice, not meeting his gaze until that single sentence was out. This was the closest in proximity Id ever dared to trek and I didn't know how to act in this uncharted territory. Finally, I mustered up the courage to look him in the face, meeting deep pools of emerald green.

He halted and stared back, raising one elegant brow in question. That was the only indication my words had reached him.

"Excuse me," I said again and then felt stupid.

"You already said that," he deadpanned, further enunciating my regret. I didn't back down though and extended my letter. "Please read this," I told him, battling the desire to close my eyes. "I wrote it and would really appreciate your feedback."

Good. Make it sound like it's school-related.

I heard him sigh and watched as whatever glimmer of momentary interest faded from his features.

But he still took the letter.

I felt the breath in my chest stutter as his eyes dropped to the surface of it, his name scrawled somewhat poorly across the face of it. I mentally chastised myself for not rewriting that part as well.

For a second, I actually believed he'd read it. Or at least open it. But then he held it back out to me and my heart sank to my feet.

"I make it a habit not to expose myself to things high in ignorance. Wouldn't want that to spread."

I thought I opened my hand, because I felt him snuggle the letter back where it had been clenched all morning. My mind blanked. I wanted to say something but it was a deep cavern where thought should be, his words echoing back as if from a distance.

Then William Trenger turned on his heel and walked away.

I stood there like an idiot for some time, wondering how my greatest fears over this had suddenly become unreachably high-expectations. Life of misery it was, then.

* * *

"You did what?" Liz asked me during lunch, my head nearly bowed into the table. Liz was my oldest friend, dating back to our toy exchange in kindergarten. We were united under Barney's principle that sharing is caring so I couldn't go against that by not telling her what had transpired today.

I didnt enjoy the retelling, though.

"I tried to give him a letter expressing how I felt," I explained, before letting my forehead fall to the tabletop. I numbly noted the impact.

"And he called you ignorant?"

"It was implied."

Liz hissed something under her breath and I didn't have to look to know she was putting her blonde hair into a bun. She did that whenever she had something to deal with.

"What a jerk," she said.

I shrugged as best I could in my current position. "He didn't say it rudely," I murmured, tone unconvincingly. As if that helped.

"Maybe he's studied for so long that he's forgotten the basics of human communication."

"Is that even possible?"

"We'd need another person with the same IQ to compare him with...have you ever even met someone as smart as him?" She asked.

I sighed. "I thought Einstein was supposed to be nice."

She scoffed. "He knew communication but forgot hair care. See? There's always something."

"Ugh," I stretched out my hands in front of me, nearly knocking over my juice in the process. I reprimanded myself for the umpteenth time, both mentally and verbally. "Why did I do that?"

"Because you didn't think it through?" She offered.

I nodded. "Definitely. Oh well. I can't change it. At least he didn't read it and THEN say what he did. I can at least feel grateful for that."

"There you go!" Liz beamed, taking down her hair now that the hard contemplation had passed. "You're already back to your annoyingly optimistic self."

I lifted my head and glared at her. "You call that optimism? That?"

She pursed her lips. "After what he said, your gratefulness is borderline pooh-bear cheer."

I ground my teeth and groaned again. "Unless that bear had just been rejected and then insulted by honey, it doesn't qualify to be used in that expression."

"What about Barney then? He got fired after he cussed out a kid that stepped on his foot. This ruined your day but that ruined childhoods."

My jaw dropped. "And mine now, too, because I never knew about that. Thanks."

She made an "oops" expression and glanced away awkwardly. But then she swiveled back and her blue eyes lit up. "Well then see it this way; now you can let William Trenger go. Say Sianora to that self-involved, egotistical intellect and hello to...someone human."

Her words sparked an idea and I felt myself smiling. "Maybe he's an alien," I mused, raising my gaze to the ceiling. "I mean: ahead of his own age's intelligence, good at practically everything he does, beyond attractive, yet lacking emotional capacity...It's a compelling theory."

Liz snapped her fingers in front of my face, making me blink.

"Firstly, we are in Cheyenne, Wyoming, not Roswell, New Mexico," she said. "Secondly, unless LL Global is actually an alien base rather than his father's company, you have no basis. Of course, you could always go dig up some green rocks and see if Will suffers any adverse reactions to them. If so, then I'll be on board."

I shook my head and bit my lip, playing with the lid on my juice bottle.

"Do you still have the letter?" Liz asked. I nodded.

"Can I read it?"

"No." The thought petrified me.

"Please?" She asked, blinking ridiculously fast.

I narrowed my eyes. "No."

"Sharing is caring," she manipulated, giving me a knowing look.

"Until someone's child steps on your toes." I shot back. As if it could physically suppress her curiosity, I shoved the letter deeper into my coat pocket, ignoring her glare.

* * *

"Dad, I'm home!" I shouted as I came through the front door, tossing down my bag and heading for my room. There, I pulled out the letter of doom and shoved it in my desk drawer.

"Lu," I heard dad call and I returned downstairs. He motioned to a box nearby. "Help me with that, will you?" I nodded, hefting up the box of pillows before following him after.

I didn't look like my dad; where he had once-blonde hair, I had brown. Where he had the striking light eyes, I had brown. You could tell he was a guy that was capable of a good build. And again, unlike him, I wasn't.

I apparently took after my mother, who was not here for me to thank. He'd long ago adapted to calling me Carol's shadow after my mother, which had a different story entirely.

Her name is what had prompted my name, Lewis. That and the fact that the relationship between my parents had been kindled by their shared obsession of C. S. Lewis and to top it off, my mom had been an English teacher. My namesake was inevitable and was a decision they'd made which I had to suffer the consequences of. But I rebelled against it in the smallest way, by deviating from Lewis and going by Lu.

It's a family secret that few knew of.

I kept the box steady until I reached the first step that led out of the apartment. My heel caught on the second one and I would've fallen, had my hands not caught me. Unfortunately, the box wasn't as lucky and toppled down the flight. I froze, squeezing my eyes shut until the sound of its descent stopped.

This was another thing I inherited from my mom; my uncanny ability to trip on any surface, smooth or not.

"Please tell me you didn't have anything breakable in there," I asked my dad.

He smiled up at me as he loaded his own box in the back of the van. "I had you carry the pillows."

I raised my eyebrows, slightly offended. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I didn't trust you."

Well, I couldn't exactly blame him. I darted down the stairs and picked up the package once more, shoving it next to its cardboard brethren.

"Congratulations, Lewis!" Dad exclaimed. He was the only one who used my full title but it was what he did; it was his dad thing. "You have officially loaded the last box."

"We're done?"

He twirled the keys on his finger, a smile spreading across his face. The blues of his eyes shimmered with pride. "Time to shove off. So go grab your bag because tonight, we spend our first evening in _A 'La Casa Moor."_

My letter. I suddenly recalled it and twisted around. I ran back up the iron flight, banging my knee once before flinging the door open. Still on the floor, I scooped up my bag and then went to the desk I was leaving behind and took out the letter. A part of me wanted to tear the awful thing away, maybe even burn it like they did in the movies. It had no purpose except serving a constant bad reminder about a day I really wanted to shove in a much larger drawer.

I weighed the letter, debating. The trash can was still here, as we wouldn't be taking that with us and I walked to it, allowing the envelope bearing the name William to dangle above its mouth. It was so tempting. I just had to let go.

"Lewis!" Dad called, jarring me out of my thoughts.

"Coming!" I shouted.

But when I walked back out to meet my dad, I hadn't thrown the letter away; I'd just pushed it deep into the recess of my bag.


	2. Chapter Two

It took an entire day to unload everything. From the furniture to dusting the small figurines and putting them on the shelves, dad and I worked until evening dusted over the sky in its usual orange glow.

"It's supposed to rain tomorrow, make sure you bring your coat," dad told me as I put away the last of the dishes. I wiped off my hands with the kitchen rag. "It's Upton, Dad. You can't go anywhere without a coat."

"How 'bout a movie to congratulate ourselves on the move?" Dad asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down. I nodded. "Popcorn?"

"I'll do it," he said instantly, snatching up the package from the pantry.

I glowered at his t-shirted back as he popped it in the microwave. "I can make popcorn," I said, a little defensively. You just stuck it in and pressed a button. Big deal.

"You burned it last time," he replied.

"I made it crunchy."

"Crunchy and black."

"Maybe the that microwave was broken," I offered, retrieving a bowl. Dad still shook his head. "This is the only package we've got and I'm not willing to risk it. Go pick out a film."

I followed orders and chose one we'd watched a lot when I was younger, turning on the DVD player. That had been the paramount endeavor of the day; setting up the TV. I'd given all my efforts but had only helped in changing the language settings to Chinese. But we did get it working, thanks to the TV guy I'd resorted to call from the phone book.

Dad came in and took a seat beside me, holding out a separate bowl of popcorn to me. He tapped the rim of his with mine. "Welcome home, Kid," he said. I smiled.

* * *

I woke to the sound of a raging animal. Or what sounded like an animal. I pulled back the curtain to my new window in my new room. The branch from the front yard's tree clashed loudly against the pane, scraping it's fingers alongside the house due to the heavy winds. It was September and Wyoming storms could be harsh. Overhead, I heard thunder make itself known.

Awesome. I groaned before I tossed onto my back, covering my face in my pillow.

The tree collided with the house again and I swore I heard something strain. I tried to ignore it, even as the sound of rain began, steadily growing into a torrential downpour. Lightning flashed from my window and my chest contracted.

The tree hit again.

The house groaned.

I highly doubted a stable house was supposed to make that sound and not bothering to wait for it again, I walked out of my room. Downstairs, I nearly smacked into Dad. "Did you hear-?"

"Yeah," he said.

Lightning hit again and my eyes widened. The wall had moved.

"Outside," Dad told me, grabbing a coat from the hanger and pushing me into it. Then he opened the front door and pulled me out. Freezing air wafted through the material and I shivered, watching from the front lawn as the house _leaned_.

Dad made some kind of noise that I assumed was shock. "It's going to go."

I didn't look at him, awestruck by the surreal sight of a shifting house before me. But the house couldn't go. I needed elaboration. "What is?" I asked.

But before Dad answered, the house gave one final shutter just before the unmistakable sound of shattering glass erupted from the windows, followed by a horrible crash.

I didn't realize Id been closing my eyes until I peeled them back, staring at the tree that had taken residence on top of our house.

I felt the horrified expression register on my face, too stunned, too afraid, to look at Dad. I'd thought my day couldn't get any worse. What an ignorant assumption that was to make.

* * *

"You have a friend that's willing to take us in?" I asked Dad, sitting across from him in our cafe. Dad owned the shop and was making fair business here, which was impressive for the lack of a better advertisement catch. It literally was called The Cafe.

Dad nodded. "He was my college roommate. Just moved back here a couple years ago. He's a good man."

"And he's...he's agreed to it?" I didn't want to admit it, but I wasn't in favor of sharing a house with strangers. I had no desire to feel even more reserved in a place that could be comfortable, but I didn't want to appear ungrateful. I was. Barney post-cussing grateful.

"Yup," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "I talked about it earlier with him."

"Huh. So like...when would this be happening?"

"He's on his way."

"Already?" I really had to give it to the man; he was on top of it.

"He'll be taking us back to our house to get some things or what's not damaged and then we'll head over to his home."

"Insurance wouldn't do anything? Even homeowner's?" There had to be something.

Dad shook his head and I saw his hands shake around his mug. "I found out it was fraudulent. The house wasn't new; I'd gone over the asking price for an worn house that would've otherwise been torn down. I paid to keep it there."

I gaped. "That's awful."

He just shrugged. "I should've taken my time. Sorry, Lewis. This one's on me."

Actually it was on those people lacking a conscience but I didn't say that. I just scooted out of the booth and gave my self-blaming father a hug.

As it turned out, my dad's friend, Calvin, was a likable guy. He was strong, too, which allowed me reprieve of lifting anything heavy. As the men did the work, I spent a good deal scrounging around the broken home, wary of glass shards at my feet. I pulled out what I could from the ruins which included my bag and miraculously, the letter. I actually stared dumbstruck at it for a few moments.

We loaded what was salvageable into Calvin's sturdy pickup before finally starting off down the road. I sat in the back, pressed between a shelf and pillows as Dad and Calvin talked about their times in college. The discussion earned me audible scars and the terrifying image of my Dad in a fro.

I didn't know where we were headed as the paved road gave way to a thicker wooded area. I saw houses constructed precariously over ledges, lavishly spaced miles between each other. It was definitely an up-scale place and I wondered just how well this friend of dad's lived. He was driving a pick up truck, after all. How good could it be?

"I think you'll like it here, Lewis," Calvin said to me and I frowned at the title. It wasn't that I didn't like my name; I just got tired of people's continuous expressions that prompted me having to relay its background.

"Hm?" I asked, taking a swig of water.

"I think you'll enjoy living here for the time being," he clarified. I looked out the window.

And choked.

Clearly, the pickup's sole purpose was to mislead people. Because judging from both the man and his vehicles's exterior, I was not expecting to drive into a wooded, open-window resort. My jaw dropped and I stared, in more awe than Id been when witnessing my own house's demise.

I pointed out the window. "This is...this is where you live?"

In the review mirror, I saw him nod. "Pretty, isn't it? My wife chose it."

I instantly regretted having not listened more closely to what they'd been discussing on the drive here. If this was how the man lived, I wanted to know what he'd done that got him it.

We parked in the driveway-a driveway that could fit multiple cars-and I slung my bag on my shoulder. "Is there anything you want me to carry?" I asked Dad. In response, he handed me a stack of pillows.

"My wife planted these herself," Calvin said as we approached, gesturing to the purple lilacs I was surprised to see still in bloom. It was _September_.

"And I built this porch myself. Well, designed it."

It was a white wraparound porch and my eyes just continued to cinch higher and higher the closer we got. The maple door was clearly taller than normal doors, thicker than them, too. It dragged with obvious weight as Calvin pulled it open. He had us enter first.

The inside was just as impressive as the outer sight, complete with warm cream-colored walls and furnished in tasteful pieces; red-cushioned couches revolved around a glass coffee table; thick drapes lined the huge windows; a well-sized fireplace occupied the far-side wall and was topped off with a wooden mantle. Above it hung a portrait that I would bet my entire twenty bucks was hand-painted.

Flatscreen. Persian rugs. Before I took another step, I removed my shoes.

"Oh, you don't need to do that," Calvin reassured me, but he'd never seen our carpets; he didn't understand the threat I posed.

"No, it's okay. I-"

"Ah, you're here!" A high-voiced woman chimed and my eyes fell upon a very pretty woman. She wore a comfortable pair of yoga pants with a white shirt and by her physical features,cI wondered if she was Portuguese or something. Her hair fell in dark waves, seemingly black against her alabaster skin and her high cheekbones supported a beaming smile. It felt genuine.

"Hi," she said, shaking Dad's hand. To my surprise, she embraced me. "Was that too weird?" She asked. "Sorry, I'm just really looking forward to having company. It gives me an excuse to cook more."

I smiled. Her warmth made me feel as if I were wrapped in a blanket. "Hi." I waved dumbly.

"Hi, you're...Lu, right?" Calvin's wife asked and I nodded. "Well, please call me Edith. I can give you a tour of the house. Show you both to your rooms. To be honest I'm really excited about not being the only female anymore."

"You don't have a daughter?" I asked her, inexplicably surprised. Did they have any kids? That would've been a good question to ask Dad.

Edith shook her head. "No, I have two sons. Love them both but the boys go to the fathers for advice. I'd like someone to feel comfortable with me for that, too."

My smile widened. Having lacked a maternal figure all my life, I instantly liked this woman.

"I'll get Lucas here. Lucas!" She said at the base of the stairs. "Please come down."

A minute passed. Then a kid appeared on the top of the flight and slowly descended. I could tell he took more after his father than his mother; brown hair rather than black. Darker skin, not alabaster. He had her eyes though, and not his father's light ones.

He couldn't have been older than ten but I was still impressed to see a book clasped between his hands.

"This is our youngest, Lucas," Edith said, doing the whole mom-thing and hugging him around the shoulders. "He was more than happy to lend his room to you, Lu."

"Happy? You forced me to," Lucas mumbled and I glanced away awkwardly. He shouldn't blame me. I didn't ask for it.

"I taught you better manners than that," Edith whispered scornfully to him. He nodded but I also saw the look in Lucas's eyes when they fell on me and it was far from welcoming.

On a spectrum ranging from one to ten, I wondered how screwed I was.

"Oh," Edith said, looking out the window just as the door opened. "Here's our oldest son. Will."

I felt my face blank. My mind, too, along with whatever else fell in between as William Trenger stepped through and stood before me.

Ten. Definitely a ten.


	3. Chapter Three

You have got to be kidding, was my initial thought. It was quickly followed by an empty silence and my inability to think actual words, much less process them.

The house we would be staying under was the same one as Will Trenger's. I was staying at Will Trenger's home.

In. His. Home.

The letter in my bag suddenly felt as if it weighed tons.

Will nodded in acknowledgement. "Hello."

His eyes found mine, his expression bored. I didn't do anything. Didn't return the hello. In fact, I was certain my mouth was hanging somewhat ajar.

Someone pushed my shoulder. "Handsome, isn't he?" Edith asked me and that pulled me from my reverie. I quickly shook my head. And then regretted it. And then regretted regretting it. "That's not what I-"

"Help us unload the truck, Will," Calvin said and his son complied, turning around without another look at me. I wanted to smack my head against the wall, but Edith couldn't spare me the chance, having swept me up the stairs and to a bedroom located at the end of the hallway. "This is your room," she said and waved me in.

It was nice. Much better than nice, actually. If I were to compile both of my rooms Id ever lived in, it still wouldn't amount to this. Big windows decorated the wall, a large desk occupied the area to my right. Pushed in the corner sat an attractive bed swathed in a purple comforter. "Please make yourself at home," she said.

That'd be easier to do if I didn't feel as if I were walking on glass. Everything here was so neat, I was sure my presence would show up in a stain somewhere.

"Come down when you're ready," Edith added with a smile. Then she left me to my consternation.

* * *

I spent a good five minutes screaming into a pillow. Nobody could hear it and it left me breathless and somewhat satisfied. How had everything come to this? My embarrassment over the letter seemed painfully trivial in comparison to what had happened since.

Due to the pillow screaming, I didn't hear the knock on my door until around the fifth one. I quickly stood up, getting a head rush, and straightened myself out before answering it.

I'd expected Edith. Instead, I got a very indifferent-looking Will, holding a box in his hands. "Where do you want this?" He asked.

I really wanted to know where my thoughts went when he was around me. Probably the same place lost hair bands go. I shook my head. "What?"

He pushed past me, nearly knocking me to the side and dropped the box in the middle of the floor. "You packed too much in this," he drawled, heading back out. "The bottom fell out. Twice."

Shoot.

"Sorry." But I didn't think he heard me as he left.

By the time I came down for dinner, my throat was raw from the screaming. I tried to clear it which made it worse and finally left it alone. In the dining room, I found the Trenger family sitting around a large oak table, the face of it hidden by a bowl of spaghetti and its side dishes.

Regardless of how bad of a day it was, the food, at least, wasn't burnt popcorn.

"All settled in?" Edith asked me, spooning a good amount of food onto my plate. The smell had me swallowing saliva. "Yeah," I said. "Thanks."

She moved to her own seat and I waited until everyone had started before I gave into the ravenous hunger I felt. I caught dad's look that told me to slow down and I listened. It took effort, though.

"So," Calvin began, green eyes falling on me. "I hear you're in the same school as Will. Is that right?"

Well, crap. "Yeah," I nodded.

"How do you like it there?"

On the plus side, My grades weren't captious towards any particular school I'd attended. They were consistent in any and all subjects. On the downside, however, that consistency remained to be very low and my grades overall were suffering an agonizing, educational death.

"It's nice," I said.

"Do you have a subject you're interested in?" Calvin asked.

Did lunch count?

I shook my head. "No. I'm still...trying to figure it out."

"My daughter isn't as studious as your son," Dad said, motioning to Will who I believed had made it his objective not to look at me once during dinner. "She's short on patience."

Benedict Arnold. "I like it when I understand the material," I offered. I didn't include that that just happened to be, well...never.

"We all have our strong suits and weaknesses," Calvin offered helpfully. I was hoping he'd drop it and let this topic die along with my future grades, but after experiencing today, I doubt it would let me off the hook so easily.

"If you're struggling, feel free to ask Will. I'm sure he'd be glad to help."

I refrained from flinching. Judging by Will's expression, he was about as willing as Lucas had been in giving me his room. "No, that's okay," I quickly said. "I'm not too bad."

A blatant lie.

"I heard your dad owns a pretty successful Cafe," Edith gratefully changed the topic. "You must have a knack for business if it runs in the family."

Hah. I covered my scoff with a drink a water. "Not really."

"Do you like to cook?"

Before I could answer, Dad shook his head. "We can't afford it."

"The supplies?" Edith asked.

"The fire extinguishers Lu goes through."

I glared at Dad, even as Calvin chortled. I heard a low chuckle and was surprised to find Will with a small smile on his face. This didn't please me, though. Out of all the things to humor him, it had to be that?

"I'm getting better," I said defensively.

"One time for her birthday, she was dead set on making her own pancakes," dad launched into the tale. "I'll admit, the batter had relatively no shells in it but the oil she'd used was garlic. So you can imagine her expression when she bit into strawberry-and-whip-cream topped garlic pancakes."

I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to fold into the chair and disappear. To my disdain, I didn't. "Anyone can mix up oil."

Dad didn't hear me. "I cracked a tooth on her cookies, once. Had to go to emergency dental care that night."

Whatever good-natured reputation these people had fabricated about me was very quickly crumbling away, leaving a cooking hazard in its wake. "The oven had been broken."

"What about the burnt eggs?"

"I didn't want to give them to you raw."

"The rice?"

"No measuring cup."

"The noodles?"

"I never once heard the word _stir_. Not. Once."

By this point, Calvin was laughing pretty hard, as was Edith. Even Lucas looked somewhat bemused. Finally I looked at Will who's expression very clearly read idiot.

"I'm just not good in the kitchen," I said, scrambling to salvage some grain of my dignity. "I'm better with..."

With...

I wasn't helping myself.

"My daughter is very level-headed," Dad said. Yes, finally. Something good. "She keeps a positive attitude. We have a strong relationship."

It may have been slightly tainted now, but I nodded in agreement.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I would like to thank you, Lucas," dad added turning to the youngest Trenger. "I know it's inconvenient giving up your space and I just want to thank you on her behalf. Im sure neither you nor your brother were expecting us."

"I was expecting dad's friend and his son," Lucas replied. "I didn't know Lewis was a girl."

I mentally whimpered. This just kept getting better and better.

Dad chuckled. "Oh, that."

I quickly turned to him, almost knocking over my water. "Don't."

He ignored me. "My late wife was a fanatic of Lewis Carroll and C.S. Lewis."

No. No. No. No.

"Her name had been Carol, so when we found she was pregnant, our first thought was Lewis. I was sure we were having a boy so we agreed on the name."

Nail. Hammer. Coffin.

"So, wait," Lucas said, raising his eyebrows. His dark eyes sparkled in the light of this information. "You were named after a male writer?"

"Technically two." Dad corrected.

"You didn't bother to pick out a feminine name just in case?" Lucas asked, earning him a scorn from his mother. Dad didn't take a offense and why would he? I was the one getting offended.

"As soon as we saw her, the name stuck," Dad explained.

"So..." Lucas drawled, "your daughter looked like a boy?"

"Lucas, stop," Edith bit. "Ignore him; I think he must be nervous around someone pretty like Lu."

At that, a deep chuckle sounded and my eyes landed on Will who had that hint of a smile of his lips.

"Will, do you have something you'd like to add?" Edith asked her son.

He shook his head. "Definitely not. I'll be upstairs." He snatched up his bowl and disappeared into the kitchen. Lucas followed after.

"I must've missed a chapter in that parenting book," Edith mused.

* * *

I didn't sleep well that night. In fact, I barely slept at all, having been feeling like a cat in water knowing William Trenger was directly across the hall from me. If I kept quiet, I was sure I could hear him breathing.

When morning came, I found myself running down the stairs, tripping once as I went. My stupid alarm clock had failed at its purpose in life, having not woken me up when I set it to. This resulted in my nearly tripping down the stairs, grabbing a piece of toast, and darting out the door with mumbled apologies. "Catch up with Will!" Edith called after me and I nodded.

It was freezing outside and I was thankful Id at least remembered my coat, zipping it up to my chin. Then I was running again, and stumbling because I must've been born with two left feet. I pulled my phone from my pocket, having heard a text message.

YOUR HOUSE WHAT?!

Liz.

I pursed my lips and hurriedly replied, an endeavor in itself when coupled with running. I was about to hit send just as I slammed into something hard.

I looked up.

Will's back was to me and I instantly moved away.

"Watch where you're going," he said.

"Sorry."

He just resumed walking then, and, not knowing where I was headed, I followed after. My curiosity bloomed and I couldn't resist asking, even if the only reason was to shatter this very uncomfortable silence.

"You don't have a car?" I asked. His parents were financially stable after all. "Aren't you seventeen?"

"I don't have a car," he said, words falling flat and lifeless from his lips.

I jogged up until I was beside him, casting him a sideway glance. "Why not?"

"Because I don't."

"Don't you want one?"

He sighed audibly and stopped, forcing me to swivel around. He took a step closer to me. "Look, I know all about your family's situation. But more than that, I know that this arrangement is temporary and therefore neither you nor I should feel compelled to interact with each other." He took another step and I felt myself move away.

"For this to be as minimally bothersome as possible, I ask only one thing; don't hang around me." His green eyes narrowed, black hair falling across them as he stared at me. "I don't want you close by at home, at school, and in public whatsoever. Do not come within an eight yard radius of me, all right?"

Well then.

"Oh, and one more thing," he doubled back and got in my face again. "If you breathe one word to anyone about us living under the same roof, I will make your awful grades the least of your worries."

I swallowed as he turned his back to me again. Before I followed, his head snapped to me and I paused, trying to estimate the distance between us.

Oh. Eight yard radius.

Effective now.


	4. Chapter Four

**Golly, I like writing this! Ah! Please R &R :) **

"A tree?" Liz asked me, again during lunch, her expression incredulous. I'd just finished telling her the somber tale that was ended my house in ruins, but kept a very small detail of the overall result to myself.

"Yup."

"And you're staying with a friend of your dad's?"

"Yup."

I hadn't lied to her; I'd just been vague and refused to specify as to which friend that was.

 _"If you breathe one word to anyone about us living under the same roof, I will make your awful grades the least of your worries."_

Will's threat echoed back to me when the guilt started to crowd in and it helped keep the details to myself. After all, I wanted to live to see tomorrow.

"You're just the bearer of misfortune lately, aren't you?" She asked, patting my head.

I sighed. "It seems so."

"Well, it's about to get worse. You remember the Chem and math tests are coming up, right?"

I groaned. No. I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten thanks to the ginormous problem that was a decimated home. I raised my hand halfheartedly. "I accept my fate."

Liz scoffed. "You're really that anxious to repeat this year? Sorry, but I don't want to join you. You'll be sitting at this table alone."

"Then help me," I begged. I didn't want to repeat the year. Not even remotely. I just wanted to be in a place to study where I didn't have to count yards whenever a certain black-haired genius was around.

She sighed dramatically. "Little Lu, when one castaway needed help building a boat and asked another castaway, do you know what happened?"

I raised my eyebrows in question.

"They both drowned. Because neither of them knew how to build a boat."

"What?"

"We are the castaways," she clarified, gesturing between me and her. "School is the boat. Us helping each other will only make both of us drown."

I groaned again, dropping my face in my hands. So this totaled in making me not just circumstantially and financially doomed, but academically as well.

Great.

* * *

Dinner that night was just as awkward as it had been the previous meal, but I didn't complain, too engrossed in trying to deviate a plan how not to fail the impending tests. I cut a glance to Will who wasn't looking at me.

Calvin had said I could ask. And there was no harm in doing so. It wasn't as if I had any leftover dignity anyway; I was in jeopardy of losing nothing.

So after dinner, I headed upstairs, waiting for Will to retire into his and Lucas's room before I stepped toward it. The door was slightly ajar and I stood there for a minute, trying to get my bearings. Before I could chicken out, I raised my fist and closed my eyes.

I knocked. But not against the door. My hand rapped against something warm and my eyes flew open at the sound of hissing breath.

My jaw dropped.

Awesome. I'd just banged my knuckles against Will's forehead. As far as asking for help went, I was not off to a promising start.

He glowered at me, green eyes burning.

"I'm really sorry," I said. It felt like that's all I said to him. "Are you okay? Do you want me to get ice-"

"What do you want?" He asked, rubbing his forehead.

I took a deep breath, letting the words tumble out. "I was just wondering if you could help me study one little thing. I'm not really good with numbers as they just start to sound like pi to me after awhile. I just need a couple min-"

"I don't want to," he interrupted, giving me a look that told me I should just leave him alone. But this was my one chance. I couldn't put it off any longer.

"Please," I begged. "It's for an important test and you're the only person available to me that knows what they're talking about."

His expression didn't change. "No."

"But I'll fail," I said slowly.

"Not my problem." Then he swung the door shut.

I stomped my foot angrily. What good was there in being a genius if he wasn't willing to help the less intelligent? I groaned before finally accepting it, and sauntered back to my room.

* * *

Edith came in about an hour later, bringing with her a sandwich on a plate. I was used to dad bringing in stuff but not a lady and the sight was somewhat jarring.

"How's the studying going?" She asked, setting the late on my desk. I blew out a heavy sigh. "It's okay. I'll get it."

Lie number two.

"Why don't you take a break to eat?" She offered. "Or we could talk? Unless I'm interrupting you. It's just been awhile since I've had a nice girl chat and sometimes it helps."

Maybe I was getting hormonal or something but her words suddenly made me want to cry. "Yeah, okay," I said, moving to my bed. I patted the area next to me.

"How's school?" She asked, eagerly and I was again taken off guard by how much she seemed to care. "I get the feeling you aren't much of a scholar."

I shook my head.

"Well, I'd tell Will to come and help but he's already asleep."

My eyes widened. "He doesn't study before bed?" And I half expected him to keep a book under his pillow at all times.

Edith smiled. "Nope. He's got an eidetic and photographic memory. Makes studying very natural to him."

Natural? More like unnatural. "I see."

"But even Will has his limitations. I'm sure you're already familiar with his...disposition." The way she said it reminded me of a puppy and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

I nodded. "It's okay. Everyone has their traits."

"He used to be much more accepting," Edith continued. "Not as narrow minded. In fact..." Edith stood up and left my room and returned a moment later, book in hand. "Only women have a deep appreciation for child photos. I know this is astonishing, but my oldest son is actually capable of smiling."

Now I did laugh as she sat back on the bed and flipped over the book. Inside, I saw images of a boy that looked like a darker-haired version of Lucas. What I found almost surreal though was the pair of dimples pressed in his younger cheeks. "Wow, he does look different."

He didn't look cold. Or distant. Or alien. He just looked like a happy boy. I turned the page.

"Wait," I said, pausing on a photo. This didn't seem right; for one, Will was still smiling. For another, he was dressed in what appeared to be a skirt, a huge hat falling over his eyes.

"Is this...uh," I tried to squander my laugh.

Edith nodded. "He was about seven there. I was trying to explain why girls wore high shoes and he wanted to try it, too. Here, look," Edith turned the page again, this one nearly identical to the other, except for the heels Will's small feet were shoved in.

I felt my smile turn into a grin. "Does he let everyone see these?"

Edith shook her head. "Oh, no. He'd disown me if this got out. Not even Lucas knows but I needed to tell someone. Actually,..." She pulled out a photo from the transparent cover. "Here. Would you like this? You never know when it could come in hand."

I checked to make sure she was serious before I accepted the photo, feeling as if it's mass were weighted in gold.

"Thank you," I said. She had no idea how much I meant it.

* * *

I slept much better that night and practically hopped on my way to school the next morning. It was a crisp Wednesday and my breath hung a bit in the air, but I was warm on the inside. Today was going to be better. For me, anyway.

But I wasn't about to flaunt my intentions and patiently waited for the lunch bell to toll. Then I started down towards the study hall, like a lion stalking its prey. It was a more remote area of the school and made waiting easier.

When I saw Will, I paused. He was already looking at me and I expected him to disappear in the opposite direction but he didn't. In fact, he was the first to approach.

Of course, my head was already bursting with this turn of events and hope blossomed in my chest, just as he reached me. "Mom gave you the wrong lunch."

My hope plummeted. "Oh. Here," I dug it out of the bag. Edith didn't like her kids eating the food the cafeteria provided and I felt somewhat honored that she'd made me mine as well.

Will and I exchanged the lunches and he was about to disappear again but I stopped him. "Wait," I said, coming around. "Okay, I know you don't want to be seen with me in public but I need to ask you; will you help me for this upcoming test?"

This was his last chance.

Will gave me a dubious look, eyebrows lifting until they were hidden beneath his mop of black hair. He leaned in. "No."

"Look," I said, lifting my hands in defeat. "I really didn't want to do this, as I don't condone blackmail. But I'm in a critical position and you have no one but yourself to blame."

I pulled the picture out of my pocket.

To my satisfaction, Will's green eyes widened, revealing the most emotion I'd ever seen present in his features. "Who gave that to you?" He hissed under his breath, trying to snatch the photo back.

But I was faster, and ducked beneath his burly arm. "I have my sources," I said, not wanting to give Edith away. "You know, I especially love the open-toed heels you had. It's a very conservative look for you."

He tried to snatch it from my fingers again but to no avail. "Now listen," I ordered, flapping the incriminating piece against my palm. "The only reason I'm doing this is to pass a test you could ace blindfolded. I'm asking for a couple hours of your time. That's it. So either help me prevent repeating this year that will also benefit you as being the better human being, or...I'm sure your female fan-base would be very interested in having this as your sponsor photo."

The anger ignited in his eyes and for a moment I found myself afraid. He clenched and unclenched his fists until finally, he sighed. "Fine. Give me the photo."

No way. "You get this after the deed is done." Of course, I'd never actually show the photo to anyone. I might've been manipulative but I wasn't cruel. He hadn't taken the time to learn that about me, though.

Will glowered at me. "So much for not being bothersome."

"Yeah, well, I was desperate. It called for drastic measures."

He shook his head for a moment before walking away, shoving the lunch in his bag as he went. I was probably going to regret this later, but he'd still agreed and I found myself feeling somewhat surprised by that.

Maybe things were starting to look up after all.


	5. Chapter Five

Nearly everything in my room was open; the books, the notepads, the door. I felt awkward and I couldn't deny the butterflies that soared through my chest. I was choking on their wings.

I'd run upstairs after dinner to dispose of any strewn delicacies and women-what-nots. Then I took a seat at my desk and started studying. Or what appeared to be studying. In reality, I was doodling a heart in my notebook.

"Yes, you really are desperate aren't you?" Will's voice came from mp behind me and my pen cut through the heart. "Your efforts are admirable."

I swallowed back butterflies. _You're just studying_ , I told myself, reigning in my imagination. _Stay on track._

"I can't start studying what I don't understand," I said. When he didn't move closer, I pulled out the second chair I'd prepared. After a second, I patted the surface. Reluctantly, he took it.

"Whereare you?" He asked, scooting the chair in.

I pointed to the page in my Chemistry textbook.

"What formulas are you stuck on?"

My shoulders sagged and my voice turned to a whisper. "All of them."

A beat of silence passed and the judgement emanating from him was almost tangible, closing to the air like humidity. "All of them?" He asked, disbelieving.

Perhaps this had been a mistake. "We're not all geniuses."

"If everyone were geniuses, no one would be," he said, retrieving a pencil from the cup holder. "There would be no minority to classify them as such."

I glanced at him. "What, like Biology?"

He gave me that look again, the kind that reflected what I already knew. I was just used to kinder terms rather than the blunt, ' _you're an idiot,'_ he was clearly thinking.

"All right," he said, snatching up my notebook with the heart and flipping to the new page. "I'll give you a couple of problems; what you get stuck on will mark your current position."

I nodded as he bent over and began writing. His hair fell over his face, following the direction of his gaze. His comfortable-looking shirt and pajama pants made me feel oddly comfortable and I could almost imagine that he genuinely wanting to be here for me rather than against his will.

The butterflies did a synchronized swoop.

"Stop looking at me," Will barked and my eyes fell away, to the distant corner of the room.

Bossy, I thought, resisting the urge to glance at him. It went on for a few minutes until he dropped the notebook in front of me. "Here," he handed me the pen. "Start."

He leaned back in the chair, weaving his fingers behind his head as he watched me. I was tempted to repeat his scorn but didn't, instead confidently wielding my pen over the paper.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

"Done yet?" Will inquired.

I shielded the paper away from him and shook my head. I had to recall something from the lectures. Anything. One stupid little detail, _c'mon_ , brain.

But no. Nothing. Not even a shimmer of a recalled text. I widened my eyes as if that would help.

"Did you get any of them?" Will asked, making me feel worse. Finally, after twenty minutes, I conceded, handing him back the paper. That look returned to his features. Maybe it had never left.

"Well at least we know my current position is before this," I said.

It wasn't well received.

It took an hour before Will was able to finally pinpoint what I was stuck on. It wasn't much help, though; I was stuck on the essential parts of everything. But he didn't yell at me as often as I thought he would. That was the nightly plus.

He gave me more sets of problems which I still agonized over. What was the point in having a brain if it kept nothing inside it?

"Done?" He asked, a little while later.

"Give me a minute."

"It's been a half hour."

"Ugh," I tossed up my hands and leaned my head back. This was impossible. Completely and utterly impossible.

I tried again.

"Maybe you should repeat the year," Will deadpanned. "You clearly need it."

But I shook my head emphatically. "No. I can do this. I'll persevere."

I heard him sigh, clearly unconvinced. Fine. Let him be. I expected him to call me an idiot. Or criticize me. Instead, he asked what actually was a legitimate question. "Why are you honestly so eager to put in effort that is just going to prove futile anyway?"

I looked up at him, the problem beneath my pencil-point still unsolved. "Futile efforts?" I shook my head. "My Dad says there's no such thing."

He scoffed, tossing his hair across his forehead. He crossed his arms and stared at me from beneath thick lashes."Then tell me; what do you gain by spending your night trying to understand something you can't?"

I blew a raspberry, debating. I found myself having to ask myself that question. Why _did_ I care so much?

"I'd rather... Hmm. I'd rather fail after doing everything I possibly could than fail because I didn't do enough," I decided. "Then I at least walk away knowing I gave it my all."

"But you still fail."

"Ah," I drawled, lifting my pencil like a pointer stick. "But the difference is _how_ I failed."

He shrugged. "Same result."

"Different perspective."

"Now you're just procrastinating," Will said, grabbing my pencil and flipping it back onto the paper. He tapped the hilt of it against the notebook. "Hurry up, I don't have all night."

I lowered my voice mockingly. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

The next morning, I had circles under my eyes. Circles that would have been evident, had the cosmetics world lacked a miraculous thing called cover up.

"You look tired," Liz said as we walked to class.

I smirked. Okay, so maybe not miraculous.

"I was studying," I said, staying incognito. She couldn't know where I was studying and much more importantly, with whom I was studying with. If she did, well, it was goodbye, Lewis.

"Did you get very far?" She asked.

"Um...yeah," It wasn't a lie, at least. I'd gotten much further than I thought I would. Will might've lacked social grace, but he had the ability to communicate numbers well. Surprise, surprise.

Liz bumped my shoulder. "Maybe there's hope for you after all."

My smirk deepened. "Maybe."

She was about to add something when we entered the classroom, but an arm hooking around my shoulders stopped her.

I glowered at it, before turning it on the man the arm belonged to.

"Let go, Daryn," I barked at the sandy-haired Quarterback. Daryn Mcarthy was, in simplest terms, the brother-friend. He was the guy I could tell anything to, if I wanted. He was the Joey to my Phoebe. This platonic stance, however, was not mutual and therefore I could never deny feeling as if I were taking advantage of him.

"How's my girl's hard studying going?" He asked. "Hurt your brain yet?"

I wiggled out from under his arm and glared at him. He remained unfazed, though, his wide grin splitting his face.

"I'm doing fine," I hissed. "Well, in fact."

"Sure you are," Daryn said, nodding playfully. "But hey, it's not like we're in any position to judge, isn't that right, Liz?"

Liz just mirrored my death glare and then punched him in the shoulder.

"How's it going at your dad's friend's house?" Liz asked, and the questioned instantly put me on edge. I flinched internally. "Okay. It's different."

I didn't elaborate.

"Hold on," Daryn said raising his palms. "Why aren't you at your house?"

 _No!_ I didn't need another questioning friend in on my current circumstance. That just doubled the chances of a slip up, which, according to Will's threat, could easily become the proverbial noose around my neck.

Liz beat me in answering. "Her house collapsed. Tree. Thunder. Boom. Bye-bye, Moore residence."

"That's the nutshell version," I added dryly.

Daryn's eyes widened until the brown irises were fully prominent. "So now you're at some random guy's home? Is he normal? A creep? Do you get that perverted vibe only women can sense?"

Picturing Calvin's face in my mind, I instantly felt guilty at having his motives interrogated by my friends. He was nice, but thanks to me, he'd become a nearly accused pedophile.

"No," I shook my head. "He's fine. He's a good guy. I'm safe."

"Isn't the house somewhat cramped? I'm kind of picturing a college apartment or something and you sleeping on the floor," Daryn went on, steadily making this worse. I needed to get out of this. Now.

"Nope!" I said, clasping my hands together. "The house _is_ a house and it's good. Where are we today? I really need to brush up for those exams."

 _Brush up, touch up, paint the entire portrait still._

To my imminent relief, both Daryn and Liz dropped the topic, settling into their seats and pulling out their textbooks.

But I knew it wouldn't last. The truth of my situation was a waiting bomb and sooner or later, someone would strike the fuse.

* * *

"This is a basic decompositional reaction," Will said that evening, delving into a lecture about chemicals and how they overreacted to each other. It's like how Will interacted with me; I expected combustion to be along any time now.

"Okay, so tell me what a double displacement reaction is."

I tried not to look at him; not letting his face or his gaze or again, the pajamas, distract me from trying to recall the information. "It's...a reaction between...two...compounds?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"It _is_ a reaction between two compounds." I finally met his gaze.

For once, he didn't appear annoyed. "That's correct."

"Yes!" I raised my arms in triumph, reveling in this small victory.

Will remained seated, not joining in on my celebration. "That's the only one you got right," he said, being the needle to my balloon.

I didn't lower my hands. "That's one more than yesterday." I extended my palm to him and he just glanced between it and my face. When he didn't get the memo, I leaned over and latched onto his hand. He tried to pull away. "What're you-"

I smacked my hand against his in a sloppy high-five. "Yesssssss, I did it!"

Will quickly took his hand back. "That's not even going to be on the test. It's something you just need to remember for future reference."

I tapped my forehead. "It's in there."

He raised an eyebrow. "And all by its lonesome, it seems."

My eyes narrowed, but I didn't let his words faze me. "All right. Next problem. I'm encouraged now."

Will stared at me for a moment longer, and the look there, dare I say, bordered almost on confusion. "You got only one problem right and that's what makes you want to continue?"

I expected some mockery there. But if there were, it was too subtle to detect.

I shrugged. "Like I said, one is more than yesterday. I'm seeing my progress."

He smirked, before taking up the pencil again. "I guess there would be satisfaction in gaining something you worked for."

"But that's why it must be nice for you," I said, reeling from the fact that he was actually talking to me. Like a person. Making a conversation, words and all. "You don't need to completely bend over backwards to just get a small percentage of the result you want. It's so easy for you."

"Easy..." He shook his head. Then he stilled, just for a moment, as if suddenly catching the action. His back went rigid. "I'm writing down the formulas you'll need to remember," he said, returning to the chemistry textbook.

I was a little disappointed but watched as the pencil shot across the page. "You'll need to commit it all to memory. Use what you need; flashcards, audio, doesn't matter. Tell me when you know it."

He abruptly stood up from the desk, making me jump. Then he was out of my room and pulling the door shut behind him.

I stared at it for a moment, perplexed.

 _Weird_ , I thought to myself. _And just when I'd started to think he was human._

* * *

"Make her stop," Lucas whined at breakfast and I looked at him, surprised. The youngest Trenger did not appear happy, with an almost hostile expression marring his otherwise cute face.

"What am I doing?" I asked him.

"You keep repeating formulas!" Lucas burst, stabbing a sausage with his fork much more aggressively than it deserved. "It's driving me nuts."

Oh. "I didn't even realize I was doing it." I had been trying to engrain the formulas Will had wanted me to remember over the coarse of two days. I'd even dreamed about it, having literally drowned in numbers, choking on letters. I'd woken with my heart pounding.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"She's studying, Lucas," Edith jumped to my defense, glaring at her child. "If you don't want to listen to it, you can leave."

Lucas instantly obliged. "You're going to fail," he called. Edith shot him a look that sent him running up the stairs.

"Ignore him," Edith told me, squeezing my hand. "You'll do fine. You've got two more days."

Two days. Forty eight hours. It wasn't enough. Still, I appreciated her optimism and frankly, it was nice having someone who seemed to actually believe I could do it.

"Is Will helping you?" She asked.

I nodded. I wondered if she'd ask me how I'd managed to coerce her son into tutoring me but she just nodded. Judging by her look, something told me she already knew.

My day carried on like that for the rest of the school hours. I repeated the formulas over and over again, until the sight of numbers began thoroughly repulsing me. Around fourth period, I'd found adding rhythm to the formulas really made it easier to remember but by sixth period, I was severely regretting it. The tune danced its way out my brain and into my fingertips until the prospect of putting my head through a wall was starting to become very appealing. I would endure it, though, if it meant a passing grade.

It was only when I was back home and behind my desk when I stopped trying to recall the formulas. Even when Will entered my room and sat beside me, I tried to look collected and not as scattered as I felt.

"Did you-"

"I remembered it!" I practically screamed, causing him to flinch. I cleared my throat nonchalantly, forcing my voice a few octaves lower. "Yeah," I said calmly. "I did."

He eyed me for a moment, before shaking his head. I was starting to figure out he did that whenever he found something ridiculous. Or stupid. Namely, me.

"Does this mean I'll pass?" I asked, clasping my hands together melodramatically. "I'll take a C. I mean, sure, an A would be really really great-"

"A C will be a miracle in itself," Will said, the corner of his lip quirking up just slightly. He wasn't smiling for me, though. He was making fun of me. "If you manage that, you should be more than grateful."

"Fine," I said, crossing my arms. "There's always the next test."

Will pulled the notebook to him and began writing, head bent low over the sheet. "You don't really want an A anyway," he said.

"And why not?"

He glanced up at me. "Your teachers will think you cheated."

I scoffed, flipping my hair to the side. Unfortunately, a strand got caught in my mouth and I choked. "They would not."

"Going from a D-level student to an A? If I weren't the one teaching you, I'd think you cheated."

I gave him a disgusted look. Sure, he was right, but still. "Well I didn't. I wouldn't." At most, the thought had crossed my mind, but I hadn't entertained it for long. Mainly because of the reason he'd just stated. But I wasn't about to admit to that.

"Okay!" I said, pulling out my pre-Calculus textbook. "It's time to face my greatest enemy." I turned to the chapter we were on.

But before I got there, Will snatched the book out of my hands, his fingers grazing mine. Electricity seemed to blaze up my arms and I dropped my grip, as if shocked by the minimal contact. But he only glanced at me as he started dog-earing pages, flipping them back and forth. "Study all of this," Will said when he was done. He gave me a serious look, green eyes appearing suddenly soft. "I sincerely wish you good luck."

Again with the teasing.

"I can do it," I snapped, pulling the book towards me. "I'll show you," I added in a mumble.

Will actually smiled at that. I could tell he didn't believe it. He shifted in his seat until he was facing me, his finger pressed to his temple. "Show me what, exactly? That you're actually a C-level student?"

I raised my chin. "That I'm smart." _Ish._

"Okay," he nodded mockingly. "Fine. Then you'll prove to me that you are the smartest student of the lowest passing grade. That's quite the achievement, indeed."

I didn't have a nice response to that so I just vigorously tore through the marked pages. The further I got though, the more confidence I'd previously felt dissolved, until I was left with nothing more than a granule. I didn't need to look at Will to know he was still smiling.

"All of this?" I asked, my voice suddenly uncertain.

He nodded.

"So like...what would I get if I didn't know this?"

Will leaned a few inches forward, until I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. "Another year in high school," he whispered.

"...Yeah, I'll remember it."


	6. Chapter Six

The sound of birds jarred me awake. I stretched, expecting soft covers around me but no, I was still at my desk, draped over the face of it.

My eyes fluttered open.

And I nearly screamed. Will's face rested a few inches away, his eyes closed, long lashes brushing his cheekbones. His hair fell in a black wave over his forehead, attractively disshelved. Huh. It was weird how much younger Will looked now; almost warm. The cold exterior seemed to have melted from him, leaving, not a genius, but just a boy behind.

I didn't realize that I'd clamped my hands over my mouth until breathing became harder.

He stirred suddenly and I nearly fell off my chair. Driven by the fear of what he'd think if he saw me watching him, l lurched to my feet and practically threw myself out of my own room. I flew down the stairs, deliberately slowing when I approached the breakfast heart pounded against my rib cage but no matter how many calming breaths I took, my shirt still jerked up and down with the movement of my pounding chest. I took a seat at the end and ate quickly, hoping no one would notice the red flush of my cheeks.

I had the entire day to memorize the remaining information Will had assigned and I did so, thoroughly, through lunch hour all the way back home. When the last evening session rolled around, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Maybe I wasn't as thick as I thought I was. At most, perhaps I was just challenged.

"Here is a simulation test," Will said when we started, handing me a sheet of problems to work through. "Get this correct and you just may get your C."

I took out my pencil. "I love how optimistic you sound."

From the corner of my eye, I saw him smirk. "I'm a realist. I don't bother with optimism."

"Dully noted."

"It's 'dually.'"

 _Whatever_. I pursed my lips and began. To my utter bewilderment, I actually understood what the question was. And most remarkably, what numbers to put down as the answer. And this went on past the first equation, along the sheet until the very end. I set down my pencil and pushed it to him.

His emerald eyes scanned the paper and I clenched my jaw, waiting for the corrections.

They didn't come.

"Congratulations," he said, laying it on the desk. "You've received, quite possibly, your first and credit-less C."

He might've well as told me that unicorns existed. This time I did jump up and hoot and did a really stupid little dance. "Thank you!" I said, suppressing the urge to hug his leg. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

He extended his hand.

I shook it.

"No," he said, pulling his fingers out of mine. "The photo."

"Oh." Id kind of hoped he'd join in on my joy, but no. His single priority had remained to be the photo.

I retrieved my bag and dumped it's innards on the bed. "Here," I said, handing over the picture. He snatched it out of my hand and stood. "Wait!" I raised my palms. "We aren't done yet."

Will sighed, as if I weren't as intellectual as Id just started to believe myself to be. "You did well on the simulation test. Therefore, you should be fine. Or passing-grade level fine. Either way, I have what I came for,"-he waved the photo-"and you have your C. That brings our agreement to an end."

"But..." I watched as headed for the door. "What if I forget?"

"In twenty four hours?" His expression turned disapproving. "Then your problems are much larger than a couple of tests."

I glowered at his back, even though I knew he was right.

* * *

"I failed it," Liz chimed the following Monday, banging her head against her locker. "I just know I did. Question four...I spent fifteen minutes on question four!"

"The results aren't out yet," I comforted, trying to reel in my own anticipation. The tests had been taken on Friday but as if to purposefully drag it out, the results wouldn't be received until this afternoon. So that had given me exactly two days' worth of obsessing over my fate.

"You probably did better than you think you did."

"That's what they always say before you get a paper with a huge F on it."

"Don't you have more credits than I do?"

Liz pulled her head back and glared at me. "I don't think three is going to cut it."

"Ouch."

"Hello, ladies," Daryn appeared, smiling at both of us. He playfully dusted off his leather men jacket before draping his arm over me. I smuggled out of it. "Tell me; how do you think you faired?"

"I didn't fair," Liz complained. "I failed."

His expression turned suddenly scared. "But I thought the results weren't in yet."

"They're not," I informed.

His fear melted form his features. "See? I bet you did better than you think."

Liz shot both of us daggers, returning her head to her locker.

The results came twenty minutes later, after we were seated at our desks, anxiety circling the room like hot air. My hands were clasped tightly on the desktop, until Mr. Baron handed me his paper. For once, there was no fire in his eyes.

I flipped it over.

 ** _B-._ **

I let out a little squeal, which earned me a few scolds but I didn't care. It was taking all my efforts not to jump on the desk and do the Irish Jig.

I cast my gaze to Liz who didn't look as pale as she had, which told me her grade hadn't been a failing one. Even Daryn appeared more jovial.

After class, with that grade tucked in my bag, I found myself skipping out of the classroom. I wouldn't have to see these halls longer than the usual four years. I wouldn't have to sit at a table alone for another twelve months. No. My efforts had paid off.

My eyes searched for Will, hoping I could tell him discreetly, but decided to wait. That was a challenge in itself, but I held my tongue until I was back "home."

I came through the door with my arms raised in victory. "I did it."

The entire family, Will included, was gathered in the living room, television on. Edith applauded me as did Dad. Even Calvin gave me a thumbs up.

"What grade did you get?" Lucas asked.

"A B." It's not like the minus sign was that important anyway.

Lucas didn't look impressed. "That's still mediocre."

But I just shook my head. I wasn't about to let that waist-high narcissist ruin my good mood. "I don't care. I just needed to pass. If I did it this time, it means I can do it again!"

"Don't set your expectations too high," Will replied from the couch.

I felt some of my excitement falter. I'd actually believed he'd give some indication of pride. At least a shimmer of approval, but no. Why was it that when it came to his words, they delivered twice the impact?

Don't let him get to you, a reasonable part of my brain said. But unfortunately, crushes rarely deigned to follow the coarse of reason and a large piece of my self-confidence shattered.

It was just a B. It was something Will himself had probably never gotten. But was it really that hard for him to just say good job?

Edith must've seen the change in my expression because she instantly scolded Will. "You worked hard for that grade, Lu," she told me. "You should be proud."

I nodded. "Yeah, I am." But my voice lacked the enthusiasm it had held just a moment before. "I'm going to go change."

Up in my room, I stared at the B on the top corner, trying to call back my earlier cheer. But then my eyes settled on the drawer and I found myself retrieving my letter that admitted my feelings for Will.

I opened it.

 _Dear William,_

 _I know you probably don't know who I am, much less why I am writing you a letter. In this modern day and age, letters are much more inconvenient but they are also much more personal. Since I lack the courage to say this to your face, I decided to put it in words instead: I'm not sure why this happened, but ever since I noticed you when you were introduced two years ago, I couldn't get you out of my head. I'd look for you in the halls, at lunch, in the library. You just had that air about you. Everyone was drawn to it, including me. I'm sure this isn't the first declaration you've gotten, but I'll add mine to the list, anyhow. I like you, Will. I like you a lot. I wish to know more about the kind of person you are because I don't believe there are many people in school that do. Because of you, I've been motivated to try harder. Not just academically, but in all things. And for that, I want to thank you. Thank you for the encouragement, even if you weren't aware you were giving it._

 _Love,_

 _Lu Moor._

I sighed at my messy handwriting. At the plethora of misuses and incorrect punctuation I'm sure littered the page. I tossed the letter aside, suddenly not wanting the reminder. Once more, I returned my attention to my pitiful _B-_.

"Good job, Lu," I congratulated myself.

* * *

"Lu," Edith said to me after breakfast, before I left for school. I paused at the door.

"What's your number?" She asked me. I almost asked her why she wanted it, but I thought it was actually necessary information to exchange, given the circumstance. I took her phone and saved my number in her contact's list.

I was in the middle of lunch, eating an apple when I heard my phone go off. Liz sat across from me, so when I opened the text message and started choking, there was no way to hide my shock.

Filling the entire screen on my phone, was a picture. And not just any picture, oh no. This one had a slumbering version of me in it, lying across from Will.

I couldn't clear my airway.

"What is it?" Liz asked and before I could get both my phone and the choking under control, she had it in her hands.

Her jaw dropped. "What. Is. This?"

"Nothing!" I gasped out, pounding my chest. Terror gripped it's greedy fingers around my heart. "It's..."

It's bad, that's what it was. Very very bad.

"Give it back!"

"Uh-uh." She shook her head but didn't look away from the screen. "Nope, what is this? Because I see you. And William Trenger. Together. Asleep. What is this?"

"What's what?" Daryn asked, coming up beside her.

No no no no no no.

I didn't have enough time or the current lung capacity to retrieve my phone before she pushed the image into Daryn's face. I saw his eyes focus on it, and watched as they widened. His usually boisterous expression was replaced by undeniable hurt. "What...why are you with that pretentious snob?"

"I'm not with him...ah...per-say," I tried, struggling for the right words. "It was...it was...studying."

"Well, usually studying requires consciousness," Liz deadpanned. I cringed.

I couldn't salvage this, I knew. There was no way to wrap this up in a pretty bow and let it sit idly by. Nope. What would make this worse is not telling the truth and having this spread, whether by their hands, or someone else's nosy ears. I sighed defeatedly.

"The guy that my Dad is friends with...Is Will's father."

A moment of silence passed. Like that second of calm before the explosion.

 _"You are staying at Will Trenger's house?!"_

Crap. "Shh!" I hissed, finally snagging back my phone. "It's temporary! I'm sorry I didn't tell you but Will...said not to." Bluntly threatened me, was more like it. "And I needed to do whatever I could to make it work there. I could not, _I could not_ , have this circling the school, okay? I'd die."

"Did he tell you that?" Daryn asked, jumping to my defense as usual. I shook my head. One more lie couldn't hurt. "No, I cannot afford this getting out, either. First, Will would hate me. But honestly, I'm more terrified at the prospect of what his three hundred female fans would do to me in light of this. They'd make me disappear. And make it look like an accident."

Liz was quiet for a moment. As was Daryn. I was beginning to think that lying from the beginning had been a bad idea. Forget Will; he couldn't have done anything to me anyway. Right?

"You better be feeling guilty for this," Liz finally said.

I smiled and then tried to look somber. "I did. I do. I really honestly do. But nothing happened; he was helping me study for the tests."

"I knew you couldn't have gotten a B on your own!" Liz boomed suddenly.

I smirked. "Um, ow."

"I'm sorry," she patted my head. "But it's just the truth. Well. Okay. So you're staying in Will's house. Okay. Awesome. This photo is supposed to be texted to me, yes?" Before I could grab my phone from her, I heard the sound of a message being sent. Shoot.

"So, Daryn," Liz went on, looking up at him. "You must be feeling pretty intimidated right now, huh?"

"Stop!" I scolded her, abruptly uncomfortable. I didn't enjoy that sad look on Daryn's otherwise happy face and I felt especially awful to know I was the one that put it there.

"There's seriously nothing going on," I said. "The guy hates me."

"If he hates you, why did he help you study?"

...Well, I hadn't thought that one through. "Um...his...his mom told him...to. His mom is really nice."

She had, technically, been the one to give me the blackmailing material and she had, technically, been the one to take this photo and send it to me. Therefore, _technically_ , I wasn't directly lying.

I prayed they'd buy it and even though both of them showed skepticism, they nodded in unison. I sighed in relief. For a bomb-sized issue, it seemed to result in zero casualties.

I quickly flipped open my phone and deleted the photo.

* * *

I was just putting my history book in my bag the following day, when chatter suddenly erupted from around the classroom.

-"What's William Trenger doing here?" One said.

-"I've never seen him here before." Another.

-"He has all AP classes. Why is he in this classroom?"

I jolted up from my seat, which resulted in dropping my bag. Books and pencils scattered across the floor and I instantly dropped to all knees to clean it up.

A pair of white sneakers appeared below me.

My hands stilled. As did my breath. Very slowly, I looked up, meeting Will's intense green gaze. My imagination suddenly started its rampage through reason, a fluttering hope that maybe Will was actually going to return my feelings. Then again, did he even know I had any? He hadn't read my letter.

In reply, I kept silent.

"You. Outside. Now." Then he turned on his heel and walked out.

I sat there for a few moments, before awkwardly rising to my feet. My cheeks burned against the onslaught of stares and mutterings and blatant, "what does _she_ have to do with _him_ "s that I tried not to take offense at. I felt some relief when they disappeared as I exited the classroom, trailing after Will down the hall.

I nearly slammed into his back when he paused so abruptly, in front of the computer classroom. It was usually the place all students went for research and for classes that required much of it. But to my confusion, there were many crowded inside, all of who seemed to be gawking at something beyond my line of vision.

I looked at Will vexedly. "What is it you want me-"

He pushed me inside, his hands on my shoulders as he steered me through the mob. They parted when they saw us; some giggled, many glared. But I didn't understand what the cause of this was, until I'd made it to one of the available computers.

At the sight of it, my heart fell into my stomach.

You know that second right after you said or did something you shouldn't have? Blabbing someone's trusted secret, or walking in on the love of your life cheating on you?

There was this second of nothingness, because it was so bad your mind couldn't process it. It didn't seem real. But then it hit you that yes, yes it was indeed real and you just wished you could disappear into the floor? Or better yet, suddenly cease to have existed at all?

That was precisely how I felt when my eyes fell upon the screen of the computer, and the picture of Will and I asleep that I found there.


	7. Chapter Seven

**New chapter! Please read and review (also if you have any ideas you'd like to include or brainstorm, please feel free to do so)!**

"I...I didn't..."

No. No no no no. How had this happened? I shoved my way through the monotony of people, to the next computer. The image lit over that screen as well. I went to the next one, ignoring my fellow classmates' complaints of stomped toes and jabbed stomachs.

Again, the neighboring computer held the same image. They all did. I was standing in a sea of identical photos.

Something latched onto my arm and jerked me backwards. I didn't have to look to know it was Will, dragging me out of the classroom and to a secluded part of the hallway. My breathing was coming pretty fast and panic surged, pricking my forehead with sweat.

"I swear, Will," I started. "I didn't-"

"Of course you did," he bit out, his words as cold as ice. I looked up to find his emerald eyes burning a deep grey. I'd never seen him so furious, much less knew he possessed the capacity to experience such emotion.

I tried to say something, but he beat me to it.

"This isn't the first time you've caused me trouble," he went on. "Do you know how many people I had to deal with because of this? How many prying, nagging, and overreactive people from the entire school?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't me-"

"Oh, really? Then who was it? Can you most certainly tell me that nobody got that photo through you? That you didn't, once, have it at your disposal?"

His words stopped me cold. The text; Liz had sent it to herself.

Will must've seen the truth in my expression because he nodded. "You spilled it. You told someone. Better yet, you probably flaunted that photo in front of your friends. All two of them."

I needed to fix this. Somehow. There had to be something.

"I didn't!" I said. "It was an accident-!"

"You are an accident!" He roared.

I fumbled back a step. My chest seized as if a fist had gone straight through it.

"Everything that brought you here was an accident!"

I didn't say anything. His words had literally rendered me speechless.

Will took a calming breath, but I saw no remorse in his eyes. "My life was calm before you showed up," he said. "I had no troubles. No difficulties. You've been at my house for no more than a week and I already have rumors spreading like wildfire behind my back."

"I'll...I'll make it up to you!" I scrounged. It was like picking up the crumbs and promising a cake out of them.

"You want to make it up to me?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Fine. Here's what you can do," he lowered his face to mine. "Stay out of my life."

Then he turned his back to me and strode away.

* * *

Five laps.

That's the number I was on, racing around the track like a bull out of its shoot. Sweat plastered the back of my shirt and rain threatened overhead, but I didn't care. I needed to run; to get this horrible feeling out of me somehow.

Six laps.

I couldn't cook; couldn't achieve much of anything academically. I couldn't draw or paint or play instruments that didn't resemble the sound of a dying cat. I couldn't even maintain some semblance of compatibility between Will and me.

But I could run. That's what I got. I got running.

Seven.

"Lu!" Someone called from the sidelines but seeing it was Liz, I made no action to slow. It wasn't just about the photo I was mad over; I was mad at myself, too. I was mad at my inferiority to everything, that even on the rare occasion I wasn't at fault for something, it still somehow seemed to find its way to me.

"Lu!" Liz waited until I was on my eighth lap before she started after me, grabbing my arm. I pulled out of it. "What?" I barked.

She paused. "What's wrong?"

My jaw dropped. Did she really not know?

"What's _wrong_? So you haven't seen it yet?" I asked, voice incredulous. "You haven't seen the photos of me and Will plastered over every computer screen in the entire school?"

Her expression froze, and I didn't need anymore confirmation.

"I..," she began. "I didn't do that. But I...I sent the photo to one person. I didn't think she'd do anything with it-"

-"you didn't think at all!"

It was ironic how one person's actions seemed to have a domino effect; Will blaming me; me blaming Liz. And down the designated path they fell.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, just as rain began its descent. "I specifically told you I didn't want it circling. Now Will hates me and frankly, I'm not so fond of myself right now, either."

"I swear, Lu, I didn't mean it."

"I know," I answered, feeling the anger drain from me. It left behind a horrible void that suddenly made me miss it. Anger was better than this feeling. "I just need to clear my head."

"But it's raining."

"I don't care. A little rain never killed anyone," I said, starting down the track once more.

And it wouldn't have stopped me even if it did.

* * *

Rain couldn't kill you, but it could leave you with a pounding headache and clogged nose, I found out the following day. I awoke to feeling as if someone had replaced my brain with tissue and tromped down the stairs, feet heavy like lead.

"Morning," I said as I sat down for breakfast. My voice didn't sound much better.

"What's up with you?" Lucas asked from beside me.

I leaned over the table and plucked up a slice of toast. "Must be the weather."

"So not only are you mentally weak, but you're physically weak as well."

Edith jabbed Lucas in the ribs.

I ignored both of them, looking only at the table and not at Will sitting at the opposite end of it. When he got up to leave for school, I gave him a ten minute head-start.

I considered ditching class overall today, save myself some embarrassment. But I wasn't an advocate of cowardice, so I picked myself up and went. However, once walking the hallways, I didn't miss the exchanged murmurs people threw at me.

"Her and Will? You have to be joking."

"Maybe he's not a genius after all, to go for someone like her."

"Did you see her on the track yesterday? Something must've happened."

And on and on it went.

When lunch finally arrived, I had reached a point of wanting to find an empty bathroom stall and sit in it. But I didn't. No, I calmly retrieved my lunch money and got my food, even in the midst of those insufferable whispers.

One girl deliberately bumped into me, knocking my cup of water over. It drenched my left pant leg but she made no move to apologize.

"Oops," was all the redhead said before joining her clique.

I clenched my jaw but let it go, returning to my once-empty booth. Daryn sat there now, but without Liz and I wondered where she'd gone today. Probably thought it best to give me space. At least on that front, she was right.

"What happened?" Daryn asked me, gesturing to my sopping pants.

I shook my head and sat down. I didn't make a move to eat; redhead had taken away my appetite. I knew It would've been bad for Will if the truth of our arrangement had gotten into the wrong hands, but in all honesty, I had a feeling my end of it was worse than his.

"Just this rumor stuff," I shook my head once more.

When Daryn didn't reply, I looked up to find the Quarterback's eyes blue eyes as cold as ice.

He stood up. Not just stood up, but stood up on his seat, glaring around the lunchroom.

"What are you doing?" I asked, fear coloring my tone.

"I'm going to tell everyone off."

I shook my head for the third time, the tissues knocking around my brain. "No, Dare. Don't. Please. You'll make it worse."

And right now, I couldn't handle worse.

"Listen up!" He suddenly roared, voice booming across the lunchroom. It got the attention he wanted. People stopped. Blinked. Waited. I didn't miss Will's head raised head above the others, on the opposite side of the cafeteria.

I tugged on Daryn's jacket. "Please, just sit do-"

"I know you all have seen that photo," he yelled. "And I know, it looks incriminating."

Oh no.

"But it isn't what you think. There is nothing going on between Lu Moor and William Trenger. This photo has just been misinterpreted for what actually is just an unfortunate living situation. Lu's house was destroyed. Her Dad is good friends with Will's. They moved into their house temporarily. That's it. So," and he made this point extra loud. "all of you can stop gossiping like a bunch of little girls!"

That's it. I was done. I didn't look at Will; physically couldn't, around the sick feeling that was gnawing in the pit of my stomach. He'd been right. I had screwed up his life, and all rumors and whatnot had been triggered by me. I wasn't the grenade itself, but I was the pin initiating it all.

I swallowed back the sudden tears that threatened and stood up. With shaky hands, I pulled my bag over my head.

"Lu,"- Daryn started but I held up my hands defensively.

"Stop," I whispered. I just needed to get out. "You've done enough."

If there had been any hope of salvaging some small civility between Will and myself, it had just been utterly demolished.

I took one step in front of the other, ignoring the fleeting instinct to run out of the cafeteria.

* * *

At home, I stayed in my room, too embarrassed to face Will. It actually was a very convenient time to have a cold; no one questioned my isolation. Edith entered once with some sandwich slices and juice, but otherwise left me alone. For that, I was grateful.

I didn't leave my safe haven until it was well into the evening and everyone would be asleep. Then with that, I crept out, trying to be quiet as I descended the steps. My eyesight sucked, especially in the dark so I tripped more than once. When I finally reached the kitchen, I raided the fridge. Sure, I really wasn't hungry, but it wouldn't do me well to get sicker.

"You should turn on the lights before you come down stairs," a voice appeared behind me.

I let out a little squeal of surprise.

Behind me stood Will, leaning against the kitchen door frame. He wore his baggy shirt and comfortable pants, hair messy with apparent sleep.

This was my cue to leave. Forget the food. If I had to face off Will, well, I would surely meet my end.

I moved. And then tripped. And then spilled the two apples and open bag of chips in my hand.

I glared at the items scattered in front of me, ignoring the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry right then and there. I just needed one thing to go right. One. Stupid. Thing.

I bent over to retrieve the broken chips.

To my shock, Will stooped down beside me, scooping fragmented pieces into his palms.

"You don't have to help," I said, my voice almost panicky. I just wanted to avoid his scoldings for a day. "Let me"-

-"it's fine."

-"No, I spilled it. I should be the one to clean it up."

-"Just stop."

-"please just let me-"

In my attempt to discourage his assistance, I accidentally knocked the chips from his hand, doubling an already large mess. I clenched my hands so tightly, the nails bit into my palms.

"I'm sorry," I said. I wasn't just talking about the chips. His green eyes settled on me but then flicked away. "Fine," he said, tone apathetic. "You can clean this up by yourself."

He stood, but before he left, I had something I needed to say.

"I know you hate me," I told him to his back. He paused.

"I know you don't want me here and I don't blame you. So...I'll do as you say. I won't interrupt your life anymore."

A beat of silence passed. Enough to make me think he wouldn't answer.

But he did.

"I'm not sure that's possible," he replied. He didn't say it angrily, just matter-of-fact. "You have a way of disrupting everything that's around you, including my life." He glanced down to me. "If there's anything I hate the most, it's unpredictability. And that's the only thing you have to offer."

My fists tightened. Where I was just feeling badly about him, I now felt angry. "Look," I said, letting a small bit of vehemence into my voice. I stood up. "I didn't mean to disrupt your tranquil life, okay? I didn't mean for people to start rumors behind your back that made them question your taste in women. But you know what? It was way worse for me."

Will whirled around at that, eyes widening slightly. "Worse?" He asked, disbelieving.

But I was on a roll. And I was hungry. Never a good combination. "Did you have people calling you inferior right next to you?" I asked. "Did you have girls spilling water on you just to make you look bad? Did you have the entire school muttering about how you weren't good enough for me behind your desk all day long? No, if anything, the only thing that rumor did was force you to interact with the world. With _people_."

He stared at me, and then scoffed. "It's very juvenile of you to be so easily affected by what other people think. I couldn't care less what they assumed about us; I just didn't want to deal with the reaction." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You say you won't interrupt my life anymore? Fine. Let's just see how long you manage that."

Before I could respond, he was already walking away.

I stomped my foot, effectively crushing a few chips beneath my heel. To make myself feel better, I imagined the broken pieces as Will's face.

* * *

The next day, dad left on business. Calvin and Edith accompanied him along with Lucas, since both Will and I had school and neither could pick him up.

"We should be home this evening," Dad told me before he and the majority of the Trenger family left in the truck.

Great, I thought bitterly. That was just great.

School today didn't go much better. People still whispered, still glared. I'd expected as much. After the rumors started, they were hard to put out and thanks to Daryn, he'd just poured gasoline on the fire. Luckily, though, I was able to find both of them and we resolved the issue. Neither of them had intended to cause harm and I knew as much. I was relieved when that was settled so by the time I made it home, I wasn't at least feeling completely alone.

I'd tried to walk very slowly on my way to the house, prolonging my inevitable arrival by about a half hour. But I did get there eventually, only to find Will in the living room. I felt a sudden urge to wave or show some gesture of acknowledgment, but then my promise from last night came rushing back and I kept silent.

I'll just go hide in my room, I thought. My history test was approaching and though I could read decently, history was a very affective way to put me to sleep.

And that's where I found myself an hour later, shaking my head in disbelief. History had nothing to do with numbers. Or science. It was just factually-based stories neatly assembled from oldest to most-recent in textbook-form.

And yet.

 _In 1953, which member of the Royal family became head of state in Great Britain?_

Right, because this was imperative knowledge to possess in order to enter college. Maybe this would be necessary if I wanted to attend a school in England. Or if I were British.

Just move on to the next one, I directed.

 _In 1960, Russia imprisoned Gary Powers for spying. What type of plane did he pilot?_

My eyebrows furrowed. I don't know. A big one?

This was ridiculous. Why was this material even considered a subject? Sure, I understood the reason for it, but where were the essentials, like the Vietnam War or the interesting topics such as the murder of the Linden Baby? I did not need to know what kind of plane this man operated. And who had gotten caught doing so, apparently.

I rubbed my eyes, ignoring the temptation to just look it up online.

But I didn't know how to clear the search history. And that was cheating. Or...was it? This was just a review; it wasn't anything that required supervision. If anything, the answers were what I needed to study.

And I knew someone who had all the answers.

No, reason shouted at me. I can't go snooping in there. That's like walking straight into a lion's den.

But I couldn't fail History. Sure, Will took all AP classes, but I was positive there was some clues for my history answers in there somewhere.

I'm not going to do it, I thought. Nope. Not. I will not be tempted, no.

This was what I told myself as I maneuvered my way from my room and tiptoed over to Will's. This is what I told myself as I eased it open with excessive care. This was what I told myself as I stepped inside with my phone's flashlight, trying to locate his bag.

I wasn't disrupting his life right now. I was saving my own.

I flickered the flashlight around, wary of the beam so as not to hit him in the eyes. My gosh, his room was clean. He might've been inhumanely smart, but it seemed even geniuses suffered from OCD.

I cast the light toward the hearty shelves of books.

There.

Next to them stood a coat hanger, which had become Will's bag hanger and I crept forward, glad there was nothing cluttering the ground for me to trip over.

When I reached it, I eased the flap of the bag open, and began thumbing through his work and textbooks. AP Chem, AP Calc, AP English, AP Hi-

Yes. I gingerly pulled it free from the bag and tucked it securely beneath my arm.

"Almost twelve hours," Will's voice appeared from his bed and I whirled around, so fast I dropped the booklet.

A moment of silence passed and I felt as if a great spotlight were shining over me. I knew this had been a rotten idea. I knew it.

"Wh-wh-what?" I stuttered.

I heard Will sigh and then his bedside light suddenly clicked on, momentarily blinding me. He lie on his bed, legs crossed, hands woven behind his head. He studied me beneath his black mop of hair.

"You lasted almost twelve hours in keeping your oath," he clarified.

I bit my lip. At least he didn't sound mad. But he did sound expectant and unsurprised, whichever effectively pissed me off a bit. "I just...I'm leaving."

"Hold on," he was on his feet very quickly and a hand wrapped firmly around my wrist. I stared down at his enclosed fingers, suddenly losing the ability to think.

"What're-what're you doing?"

He bent down. "I'm doing what you came here for."

Oh my gosh, I had a sudden feeling of my life passing before my eyes.

"I-I-" I couldn't talk. "I...just wanted-"

"Oh, I know," he nodded, reaching for my other hand. "I know exactly what you came here for."

My eyes widened. "You do?"

He clicked his tongue, raising one eyebrow. A derisive expression colored his features. "House is empty. We're the only ones here. When was there a better opportunity for you to sneak into my room undetected?"

What? "N-no!" I instantly shouted. "That's not what I-"

He pushed me on the bed, until I was sitting at the edge of it, his arms appearing on either side, effectively caging me in. He was so close, I could see the yellow specks in the emerald of his eyes.

He leaned down to kiss me.


	8. Chapter Eight

"Wait!" I tossed up my hands. "Uh, you see, I'm-I'm an advocate of dating prior to...to skinship and I don't know if you hit your head or something to cause this change, but I think the healthier route would be...dating first. Not-not-"

A chuckle stopped me cold. I didn't realize I was squeezing my eyes shut until I opened them, finding a smile on Will's face. He pushed away from me, still laughing.

"Skinship? Did you actually refer to intimacy as _skinship_?"

My cheeks burned red and he chuckled once more.

My blood suddenly boiled, not only with embarrassment, but anger as well. I glared at him. "You were just teasing me?"

He gave me a half-lifted smile. "You just figured that out?"

He was rotten. He was the bruised and gross apple at the very bottom of the barrel. Fuming, I stood to leave.

"Wait," Will called. "Don't you need this?" He swiped up the booklet and I glowered at both it and that smug look on his face. "No," I hissed.

"Pride isn't buoyant enough to keep your grades afloat."

"What?"

He sighed again. "You'll fail without this." He threw it to me.

On instinct, my hands went around it, but I felt as if I were holding something bad instead of beneficial. I took as deep breath, trying to calm my mounting fury.

I marched back up to him and slammed it into his chest. "I appreciate the offer," I said, voice laced with sarcasm. "But it just lost its appeal."

He grabbed it, looking down at me intently. "I warned you not to expect too much of yourself, because now look at the position you're in. It's much easier to stay with what you know you can handle and swiping answers," he shook it for emphasis, "just so happens to be what you can nearly handle."

Basically, he was calling me no better than a cheat. Because I wasn't smart enough to actually know the answers myself. It just made it that much worse knowing he was enjoying pointing it out.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What is there for you to possibly gain from being a jerk?"

Will smirked. "Cheap entertainment."

My eyebrows shot up. Was there smoke coming from my ears? It felt like it.

I took a step closer, for once, daring to trespass beyond enemy lines. "Tell me, Will: what's so good about being a genius if you can't even manage to communicate with those less intellectual than you?" I challenged. "What's so good in being a genius when it makes you look down on everyone else?"

I didn't give him the chance to respond. I'd already twisted on my heel and left his room, slamming the door behind me. It was my turn to have the final say.

* * *

 _That's it. No more liking him,_ I thought. That was my new goal, and I'd strive to do whatever it cost to reach it. I would erase any feelings of affection I harbored for Will. He was conceited and narrow-minded and extremely pretentious. No. It was done.

I was done.

"...Lu?"

I snapped to attention, dropping my spoon. Milk fell from my cereal bowl and my eyes refocused on Edith. I coughed. "Yeah?"

"What do you think of heading to the pool this weekend? Kind of as a pre-exam relaxation vacation?""

"I don't think her brain needs to be relaxed any further," Will said and I suppressed the urge to glare at him.

I nodded to Edith. "That sounds like fun."

And so, when the weekend arrived, everyone-except my dad who had to stay behind for work-packed into Calvin's secondary vehicle, which was a van, the trunk loaded with towels and an array of water items. It was spacious and comfortable in the backseat and I was glad to have Lucas between me and Will. At least, that's what I tried to convince myself of.

"What music do you want on?" Edith called to us in the back.

"Baroque," responded Will.

"Classical," said Lucas.

 _How about the enthralling and poetic emptiness that is silence?_ I mentally offered.

"What about you, Lu?"

I rested my elbow against the window frame. "I have no preference." That was a complete lie, however; I hated all instrumental music. But Edith nodded, and flipped on something with a violin which fell as the background music to an otherwise nerve-wracking ride.

When we arrived at the outside pool a half hour later, uncertainty instantly gripped me. I glance down at my clothes, where hidden beneath, lie my unbecoming one-piece among a variety of openly displayed bikinis.

It didn't help that I was also flat-chested and my arms instinctively wrapped around myself. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I repeated my mantra, slowly pulling off my shirt and jean shorts.

"Just as I thought," Will said from beside me and I jumped, holding my clothes against me.

A smirk was plastered to his face and my mantra involuntarily stuttered to a halt at the sight of his bare, broad shoulders.

I tried to swallow my sudden nervousness. "Just as you thought...what?"

He stood. Glanced up and down. "There's nothing much to see."

I instantly glowered at him, but when I realized his implication, I felt myself smiling. "So you think about that stuff, huh?" I asked in a mischievous tone.

It got the result I wanted. He momentarily blanched before he abruptly turned and ambled towards the pool.

* * *

I really wasn't a bad swimmer. To my father's bewilderment, he'd found that early on, I could actually do something well. Water contained no floor for me to trip over and I believed that made all the difference.

I laid sprawled on my back in the deepest part of the pool, letting the water support me. The bottom rested almost ten feet below; It was one of those diver sides and though I could swim, I didn't wear goggles because the sight of such depth was unnerving to me. Once, I'd tried swimming to the bottom of a pool like this. I made it halfway before pain erupted in my ears from the pressure and the images of drowning flashed before my eyes.

I ran my hands around me, water weaving between my fingers. I was deliberately distracting myself as to keep my eyes from seeking out Will. I continued to tell myself it didn't matter where he was, bare-chested or not. But it wouldn't have been hard to find him anyway; just locate the flock of females and in the center, you'd find Will.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't deny that it annoyed me for some reason. What if one appealed to him? In those small bikinis, some that could actually constitute as undergarments-

Before I let the thought go further, I dove beneath the water and let out a scream. I didn't resurface until I was out a breath.

"You can swim?" Someone asked me from the poolside and I looked over to find Lucas at the edge of it. He wore his Avengers swim trunks and it was somewhat unsettling to see. It was the first time that he seemed to openly accept that he was indeed a part of the young generation.

I gave him a sardonic look. "Yeah, I know. Shocker, right?"

He pursed his lips and glanced away. "There's nothing special about being able to swim," he deadpanned.

Great, I thought bitterly. Shoot down my one almost-talent. "Well it's the only thing that'll help you in the water. No amount of math or smarts can keep you from drowning."

Lucas glared at me. "That's only if you plan to be around water," he backfired.

I was about to return with something equally menacing but stopped. Oh. _Oh_. I gaped at him, the realization slamming into me. "Do...do you not know how to swim?"

His tone went on the defensive. "I know how to swim!" He nearly shouted. "It's easy. Even baby animals know how to do it. Only dumb people can't swim. You're just an exception."

Well, ouch. I wondered how many friends this boy had in school. I doubted very many. I faced him, letting the insult go. Maybe this was my chance to get on the kid's good side. "Look," I said, stretching my arms on either side of me. "The first thing to learn is floating. This means the air in your lungs actually keeps you afloat, see?" I demonstrated. "So, even if I go under and want to come back to this resting position, I can."

I swam beneath to show him. I stayed below for a good fifteen seconds.

But when I came up, he was gone.

I pursed my lips, glancing around the poolside. Had he run off somewhere? Was my teaching really that unbearable?

Bubbles came up from below, causing me to look down.

Every joint in my body locked, completely frozen over. I could make out Lucas's small frame, falling farther away, under water.

Panic flooded me and my eyes found the lifeguard chair, but it was vacant. There was no one. Nothing. Without thinking, I dove down, opening my eyes. I ignored the burning of the chlorine and the pressure that was steadily increasing in my ears. All my focus was on Lucas and I kicked, desperate to reach him before I had to go up for air. But he was sinking fast, hands flailing about him helplessly. I forced myself down more. Already, I could feel my lungs straining.

 _Please_ , I begged, reaching out my hand. He slipped through.

I pushed forward again. My fingers clasped around his arm and I heaved upward.

I knew that in some training, they had you carry a brick from one side of the pool to the other. This was much harder and required twice the energy I had. But I still tried, pulling as hard as I could.

 _Air_ , my lungs screamed. _Air_!

I swam upward, kicking, tugging, yanking, anything that would provide me leverage against the weight of the water. But I didn't feel like I was moving at all. I didn't feel like I was going anywhere.

 _C'mon!_

 _Air!_

Against my own violation, my mouth opened and in rushed water. I gagged and choked but there was nowhere for me to-nowhere-I couldn't...

The weight pulling me down suddenly disappeared and the lack of it made me panic tenfold. Had I dropped him? Was he falling back to the pool floor? But instinct reigned and I swam upward, dots exploding over my vision.

I broke the surface, but still couldn't breathe. I couldn't because water was making its way out of my lungs. I kept falling beneath the water again, the strength drained from my legs.

Strong arms wrapped around me.

I choked and sputtered. Gagged and coughed. I swiveled my gaze to find Will, his arm around my waist, carrying me to the edge of the pool. I wanted to say something but couldn't, too busy spitting out pool water.

Will grabbed my hand and secured it to the edge before pulling himself out and then me.

I sat down, coughing into my hands. Distantly, I made out Edith's voice, a flurry of panicked words fluttering from her. I glanced around frantically until I found Lucas, held in his mother's arms. The sight sent me a different kind of breather.

"Are you okay?" Will asked, rubbing my back. I tried to say something but choked again, my vision blurry.

"Take slow breaths," he instructed.

 _Yeah, I'm working on it,_ I thought sarcastically. I looked up.

It was then that I noticed how close Will really was. His arm was still around me and he stared at my face intently. The teasing smirk that he usually wore was gone, replaced by what appeared to be relief.

"I'm..."-cough-, "okay."

I turned behind me. "How's..." To speed it along, I pointed to Lucas.

Will rubbed my back again. "He's fine. You took in more water than he did."

"Dumb...lifeguard," I bit out.

"Stop talking," Will suddenly said, tone disapproving. "You'll hurt your throat more." Calvin handed him a towel and Will spread it open, wrapping it around my shoulders.

I gave him a surprised look, but he seemed to be avoiding my gaze.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Next chapter! Please enjoy :)**

I spent the remaining time I had submerged in world wars and documented political diversity. I researched, read, reread, and repeated until everything was somewhat mentally present. But it was like trying to memorize the placement of pi, except where it had numbers, this had events. To clearly understand one, I needed to know what predicated it and the turning point that provoked its occurrence.

All that fun stuff.

It wasn't until the day before the test that I came downstairs late in the evening, finding the kitchen light inexplicably on. Had someone come down for a drink? It wasn't dad, he'd returned the day prior.

But the questions died away when I spotted Will's history booklet on the kitchen table. I wandered over to it, curious. Lying on the surface of the cover was a note. I picked it up.

 _Good luck,_ it read.

Despite my best efforts, I smiled.

* * *

I clutched the grade to myself, trying to control my grin as I came home.

"Good news, Lu?" Edith asked in the kitchen, stirring something that smelled delicious.

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. I didn't want my hopes to be dashed this time. "Just a good grade," I said dismissively.

Edith did a little hop of mutual enthusiasm and gave me a hug. She smelled of something floral mixed with the heavy tang of cooking spices. It was a scent I had begun to associate with motherhood; a scent I never knew growing up.

"You did it again!" She said proudly, momentarily forgetting her stew.

"Did what?" Will asked, coming into the kitchen. Though it was a nice day out, he wore a long sleeve shirt, sleeves pulled to his forearms. He grabbed a carton of milk and drank from the lip.

Edith didn't seem to notice. "She got a good grade on her History exam! Lu, I think you underestimate yourself. You seem very smart."

Will choked on his milk. I watched with a smirk as he struggled to swallow it. "So you did it all by yourself, huh?" He asked, raising a knowing eyebrow.

I pursed my lips, trying to find a route that didn't lead to compulsive lies. I nodded. "Yeah, I studied all by myself."

Total truth. Hah! Lewis: one.

"I bet you feel pretty proud not needing any...outer assistance," he hinted.

I narrowed my eyes, as subtly as I could without Edith detecting anything. "Everyone has their ...helpful sources," I replied smugly.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. "I'm glad you found them comprehensible."

"I did," I said. "Of course, some of it wasn't legible with the cramped font, but I made do."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Edith casting us glances, her stirring hand stilled around a ladle. "Are you guys flirting?"

Now it was my turn to choke. "Definitely not," I said, just as Will scoffed. But then his eyes settled on me again and I saw something there; something I couldn't place. "I can't speak for her, though," he murmured, letting the words hang from him.

Edith clasped onto it like a cat to a loose string. "What?"

"What?" I bit out.

Will sighed, pushing off the counter with his palms. Then he sauntered over to me, a corner of his lip pinned halfway in a smile. "Because I had the impression that you felt...differently."

He smiled.

I glared, feeling panic expand like cold water in my veins. "That's not true. When did I ever give you that impression?"

He sighed again, as if preparing to deliver a fatal blow, "'Dear William,

I know you probably don't know who I am, much less why I am writing you a letter,-'"

Sound seemed to dip in and out.

 _Oh. No._

 _-"'_ In this modern day and age, letters are much more inconvenient but they are also much more personal-"

"Stop!" I rushed forward, trying to put my hands against his mouth to keep him from blabbing anymore. But Will was tall and unfortunately, his mouth was almost at the highest and inaccessible part of him.

"'Since I lack the courage to say this to your face, I decided to put it in words instead: I'm not sure why this happened, but ever since I noticed you-'"

I practically jumped on him, settling on a jab in the ribs. He paused to cough and I glowered up at him.

Behind us, Edith said nothing for a minute. A moment of silence passed as Will returned my glare, a furnace in his gaze.

"Lu," Edith finally said and I didn't want to look at her. How had Will gotten to my letter? He never read it when I gave it to him. I was perplexed. And furious.

"Lu, do you like Will?"

I shook my head. Not in denial, but in disbelief. I prodded Will in the chest, discarding Edith's question. "You had no right to read that," I hissed.

He returned the hostility in his own voice. "It was addressed to me. Why shouldn't I read it?"

"You didn't bother to do so the first time!"

"Then you should be more specific in labeling the expiration date of a letter."

I clenched my hands together until it felt as if my nails would draw blood. "You're unbelievable."

He moved away from me toward the kitchen table and pulled out a seat. "Right back at you."

"Oh, Lu, you wrote him a letter?" Edith chimed, oblivious to the atmosphere that matched Robert Frost's Fire and Ice. I took a deep breath; tried to mentally genie my way out of there. It didn't work.

I turned to Edith. "Yes. I did. And I meant every word."

There was no use in lying about it. At least not regarding this, anyway.

Subtle surprise registered on Will's face, but otherwise, he remained indifferent. Edith, however, was smiling. "I knew it," she beamed, but I didn't think she was talking to anyone in particular.

I just kept glaring at Will, mustering up what little confidence I had left. "Yup. I like Will. Or did. Or do, I don't know. His personality keeps changing every five seconds so by the time I form an opinion, he does something that makes me change it."

If I were going to be honest, I might as well also make it hurt.

Edith clicked her tongue, but didn't disagree. "That's William."

He shrugged, unfazed by my confession. "I'm exactly who I've always been; you're the one with the tendency of inconsistency."

"I've been consistent!" I told him, walking towards the table. "I've been consistent in one thing, and that's to make you hate me just a little less."

He looked up. Reflected in his eyes was that confusion again. The same kind of confusion I saw when he'd asked me why I tried so hard. It was a weird expression, but I didn't know what kind it was or why it was there in the first place. How could I confuse him?

"Oh, I'm sure he doesn't hate you!" Edith said, wrapping an arm around me and squeezing. It was comforting, but comfort wasn't what I was really seeking at the moment. She turned to her son. "Do you, Will?"

Will stood, and walked out of the kitchen. "I don't want to answer that," he said before he disappeared out the swinging door.

"Don't mind him," Edith said, coaxing my eyes to meet her dark ones. "He has his exams coming up."

"I thought those weren't until December?"

"He's taking them early. His credits allow him it."

I nodded. That would make sense. He probably had like a billion of them.

"He'll cool off after they're over with," she continued to soothe me. I gave her a smile, but contrary to my acquiescence, I didn't feel so sure.

* * *

Unfortunately, things didn't seem to improve much when Will's exam approached nearly two weeks later. I was on edge, but I wasn't sure why, probably concerned that Id do something to mess up Will's optimum performance.

What even were aptitude tests? They measured skill, right? Either way, these would determine what college he was applicable for. Which probably made every college in the nation. I wondered if he'd attend Harvard or something. Basic line, the tests were important and I would not disrupt this part of his life, regardless of how I felt about him.

Because that was a different issue entirely.

"Why do people go to college?" Will asked the evening before the exams. It was just him in the living room as I cleaned up the last remnants of dinner and I had to look over to him to make sure I'd heard right. I pointed to myself. "Are you talking to me?"

He gave me a dubious look. "You're the only other person here."

That was true. I set down the silverware Id collected and came over. This was my chance. My chance to offer...something. What that was, though, I had no idea.

"Why do you ask?"

His eyes drifted from somewhere above my head. "Primarily curiosity," he said.

Vague, but I'd take it. I bit my lip, trying to think. "Well...for one, it provides opportunity. Whether that be making it easier to attain a job or find what you really want to do...college offers you doors that you may otherwise miss out on."

"And what is it you hope to do?"

What? I paused. Was he actually asking me a personal question? At the realization, it took me a minute to collect myself. I tried to act calm and dismissive and not the bursty, butterfly feeling I felt inside. "I don't know," I admitted, fiddling with my fingers. "I haven't really found that one...calling in life. And I may not find it in college, either. But even if I don't have any ambitions, I at least have the hope for them in the future."

He finally met my gaze. "What if they've already presented themselves but you just failed to identify them?"

At his words, I shook my head. "Then they aren't right. Believe me, when it comes, you'll know, in the same way you know when..." Here, I drifted off, suddenly unsure.

Will waited. "When you what?"

Oh, why not? He already knew I was attracted to him. I had nothing else to spill. "When you like someone," I said. "You get this...flutter."

His eyebrows rose. "Flutter?"

I nodded. "Yes, flutter. When you face it, you feel excitement. You feel uncertainty. There's doubt and fear and worry but there's also this...passion. This sensation of needing to be around whatever it is because it just connects to some deeper part of you. But it's also scary because suddenly, you can't imagine anything else in its place and there becomes this dependency on it. In it exists dreams you never thought you could have. Even if they're ridiculous and impossible and absurd, they bring a bit of purpose to your life. And it's so important to have that. Because a life that feels devoid of purpose would be a lonely one to live."

He didn't say anything and I realize I'd just babbled incessantly. I cleared my throat. "At least, that's what I think."

Will was quiet for another second. I wondered if he'd scoff or crack a smile, but he didn't.

"Please be quiet tonight, all right?" Will asked before heading to bed. I nodded blankly at his back, watching as he ascended to his room.

Maybe I'd said something helpful. Or maybe not.

* * *

For the remainder of the evening, I focused on being quiet for Will. It wasn't hard. I just had to step lightly and not slam things. I could do that.

My proof was put into action at 3am, when I awoke to get a cup of water. Sucky eyesight combined with stairs and poor coordination quickly resulted in a collision after tripping on the last step. Fortunately, the wall was there to brace my fall.

I froze in horror, ignoring the pain that shot through my limbs at the forceful contact.

Quiet, I chided to myself. I didn't really need water. I could just drink it out of the bathroom sink. To preserve any further disruption, I tiptoed to the bathroom and ducked my head beneath the faucet.

I didn't see how high Id turned the nozzle until water gushed out, effectively running down my airway. I sputtered and gagged, trying to keep quiet which made it worse. I shut the faucet off before fleeing to my room where I could cough without disturbing anyone. In my rush, however, I accidentally slammed my door behind me.

I glared at it and decided not to move for the rest of the night.

The next morning, I didn't miss the slight brush of shadow dusted below Will's eyes. I mentally reprimanded myself as I plopped a piece of toast on my plate and avoided his gaze.

"Did you sleep all right, Will?" Edith asked, pulling her briefcase to her. She worked from home a lot, but there were some days on the weekend she took to go into the office. Today seemed to be one of them.

Will didn't look up. "No. Somebody made noise in the middle of the night. It kept me up."

Darn it. I swallowed and lowered myself in my seat.

"Huh," Edith paused over her coffee. "I wonder what it was."

"It sounded like an uncoordinated idiot," Will said.

"Hey, we know one of those," Lucas added and I scooted down farther.

A few minutes later, Will rose and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he walked out. When he opened the door, I heard the sound of thunder and the pitter-patter of mounting rain.

He walked straight into it and closed the door behind him.

I toyed my lower lip with my teeth, suddenly feeling apprehensive. The weather was poor and Will had only a coat on over his usual long shirt and jeans. I eyed the closet for a moment before jumping up. I needed to be helpful.

For once.

"I'm going to bring him an umbrella," I said, running over to it and pulling out a red one from the closet's depth. It wouldn't do him any good showing up for a skill test if he hadn't even spared the thought to bring an umbrella.

I pulled on my coat and jammed my feet into my tennis shoes before racing out of the house. It didn't occur to me until I was already a good distance from it that I should've brought two. Oh well. I wasn't the one taking an aptitude test.

"Will!" I called, my voice splicing through the rain. I jogged up to his form. He stopped and faced me. Rainwater trickled off his hair, plastering black strands to his forehead. Drops ran down the bridge of his nose before falling onto his lips.

A blush crept up on my cheeks.

"What?" He asked, voice cold. Right. I held out the umbrella. "Here."

Will barely glanced at it. "I don't need that."

"What, does one of your superpowers include being impervious to water?"

He responded with a cynical expression. "A little rain never killed anyone."

I gawked at him. Suddenly, I was back on the track, speaking those same words to Liz. Maybe on occasion, Will's and my thoughts weren't that distanced from each other, after all.

He swept around me and I tailed him for some reason, still clutching the umbrella to my chest. "You won't look as professional, though," I countered, trying to offer the item to him once more.

Again, he rejected it. "I don't need to look professional."

I nodded, though I was behind him and I knew he couldn't see it. "Gotcha. Hey, maybe for your first interview, you can wear overalls!"

He stopped again, so suddenly I collided with his back. "Why are you following me?" He asked.

"To give you this stupid umbrella!" I held it out again. He exchanged glances between it and myself, as if waiting for me to catch the relation. "Something tells me you really didn't think this all the way through."

"'A little rain never killed anyone,'" I quoted with a sneer.

He didn't look back. "You use it."

I sighed melodramatically, speed walking to keep up with him. Fine, if he wasn't going to use it, I wanted to make sure he at least arrived to school in one piece.

"What are you doing?" He asked after a minute, glancing sideways at me. I shook my head. "I'm escorting you to the premises," I said, suddenly feeling like a guard rather than a haphazard teenage girl.

I heard him scoff. "You don't need to."

"Well you won't take the umbrella," I shot back.

"Fine, give me the umbrella."

"You told me to take it. If you take it, I wouldn't have an umbrella."

"Right now, neither of us have an umbrella!"

Oh. I popped it open and hung it above us, rainwater slapping against the red material overhead. "There," I said contentedly.

Will stopped again, just enough to send me a pointed glare.

Before he could say anything, I explained. "Now we both get the umbrella. I'll walk you to the school and then I'll take the umbrella back. It works out."

He shook his head incredulously before resuming the walk. "And that's all it does."

Despite my best efforts in trying to keep us both beneath the portable shelter, Will kept walking faster than me, clearly phlegmatic towards the rain or my attempts to shield him from it. The school was only about a mile on foot, located across the street and on the corner outside of this village. I tried to keep pace with him, but Will seemed like he wanted to lose me and I finally conceded. I dragged behind him as we exited the village, dragging even further as he crossed the street.

But then the light turned red at the crosswalk and I stopped. Just my luck. I glanced down either side of the road, each one empty of cars. Oh, this was ridiculous. I wasn't going to wait.

I stepped off the curb.

Halfway across, a sound splintered through the rain, accompanied by headlights, shining on me like a deer struck still.

I had enough time to register the license plate on the front bumper.

A split second later, impact.


	10. Chapter Ten

_"Miss? Miss? Is there anyone who can call an ambulance?"_

 _"Is she breathing?"_

 _"Did she hit her head?"_

 _"I didn't even see her in the rain-"_

 _The voices came from far away, like the sentence game you played underwater. Strange. Did that mean I was drowning again?_

 _"Excuse me" another voice cut through and it was clearer than the rest._

 _"Lu? Lewis, can you hear me?"_

 _The voice instantly made me feel calmer, enough to where I realized I hadn't been calm a moment before. There was something off about it though, but I didn't care._

 _"Lu? Here, use my phone and dial nine-one-one."_

 _Weird. If I were downing, I should be afraid, right? I wasn't. I was content, hearing that name spoken by that voice._

 _"Lewis..."_

 _Then the sounds ceased altogether._

* * *

Soft material. Pillow under head. Bright lights beyond my lids. I blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from my vision and brain.

A huge orb of light settled above me and I stared at it in awe. "Am I dead?"

"Hardly," came a voice from beside me and I looked to find my dad seated there. I tried to wave but something that felt like tape restrained me.

I tried to not look as confused as I felt. "What...uh...what...?"

"You were in an accident," Dad explained. "A car hit you."

At the mention, i distantly recalled lights and the numbers of something. I shuttered. "Oh."

"Are you feeling all right?" This voice belonged to Edith who sat on the other side of me. I jerked at the sound of ip her, surprised by it, before settling back on the bed. "Yeah, I'm okay. I..."

Oh no.

Will.

"Where's Will?" I asked her, feeling something grow in the pit of my stomach. "Did he-"

-"he made it back in time," Edith reassured me, "Right after he got news you would be okay." I relaxed back onto the pillows. Thank goodness. Those tests were vital, or so Edith had told me. They were the golden ticket to the chocolate factory of universities. They were a utensil to help in determining Will's academic fate. They were-

"Good. You guys got here."

I shot up so fast, something pounded in the back of my skull. I didn't notice until then the cast wrapped around my knee, but my attention was on Will who stood in the door of my hospital room. My jaw dropped and I felt the air go out of me.

The others suffered a similar blow.

"Will?" Edith stood and went to her son, her fluttering fingers trying to grasp the words she seemed struggling to speak. "Will, I thought you returned to class for the aptitude tests. What...what are you doing here?"

Will shrugged. That's it. He just shrugged. "I was tired, so I grabbed a coffee from downstairs."

He didn't sound furious. There was no indication he was even mad, and that made it worse. As Edith barraged him with questions, I looked down at my hands, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. I'd called Will a jerk, once to his face, and a multitude of times in my head. I thought he was uncooperative in not even trying to be nice to me, but I realized that I hadn't even given him the chance to like me as a human being, let alone a girl.

The words he spoke of me disrupting his life weren't said to spite me. He had just been pointing out the truth I hadn't seen.

"I'm really...sorry," I said lamely, my vision suddenly going blurry. Couldn't I do anything right?

"I didn't...I didn't mean for that to happen."

"It's not your fault," Edith said soothingly, rubbing my arm. But I nodded. Because yes, it was my fault. Everything since day one had been my fault. "I'm sorry."

I kept repeating that over and over, in my head and out loud. But it did nothing to help with the guilt that ran rampant, knocking me down again and again.

It was no wonder Will didn't like me. It was no wonder at all.

* * *

I kept myself in confinement. Or, borderline confinement. I felt like a walking hazard, a mine beneath my own feet. When would it go off? What would trigger it? How many causalities would there be? Fine, so there was a dose of melodrama, but it was exactly how it seemed.

I wanted to be able to predict my own damage. But I couldn't. That made it twice as likely for it to occur and my odds were bad enough already. The cordial thing to do was for me to stay somewhere else. Somewhere that wouldn't threaten any person's scholastic reputation.

"Could I stay at your place for a couple days?" I asked Liz when I returned to school on Wednesday, four days after being discharged. I just had a sprained foot and a sizable bump on the head that kept me overnight for observation, but that was the extent of my injuries.

I plunked my elbows on the lunch table.

Liz gave me a questioning look, a slice of apple impaled on the tip of her fork. "Why?" She asked.

I sighed. "Because I'm an incendiary human that's doomed to activate at any time."

She paused, the fork hovering above her lip. Her face blanked. "What?"

"Because I am the hole in Will's life-raft, okay?" I said for emphasis. "I am the eons of erosion to his pyramid. I'm the...the...skinner tool-thing to his hide."

"When did you become an analogy dispenser?" She asked, cock

ing her head to the side. "Speak English."

"I am."

"Speak coherent English. What's up with the drama? Last I checked, you frowned upon attention-seekers."

I took a calming breath, putting my hands out to illustrate my feelings as gestures. "I keep screwing up. We are talking major boo-boo's inflicted here. I am responsible for..." I instinctively lowered my voice, casting a wary glance around us. I pulled her closer. "...For Will not taking the tests."

"What?" Her eyes went round and her fork dropped. She picked it back up and pointed it at me. "You made it so he couldn't-"

"Shh!" I hissed at her, scared of the eyes she'd provoked into looking in our direction. I motioned for her to keep it down. "Accidentally."

"Oh really?" She said, voice sarcastic. "Because I was under the impression you deliberately walked in front of a car."

I smirked at her. "Can I stay at your place or not? Just for a few days."

Her blue eyes studied me and the apple finally reached her mouth. "My mom went to a convention out-of-state," Liz explained. "She told me not to have anyone over. So sure."

I felt my shoulders relax at her consent and I let out a sigh in relief.

* * *

It took time convincing my Dad to let me stay at Liz's but even we had exams approaching and school was always a soft spot for him. Or maybe it wasn't so much a soft spot as it was the terror parental figures face at the concept of their child's future and how they could succeed in it.

Clearly, Dad wished I could cram in all the study time I could get.

This would only be a temporary solution, however. Once the few days were up, I would ask dad about us moving out. Maybe find an apartment somewhere. Perhaps a cozy bridge where we could reside beneath as trolls. But until that talk came to pass, at least I could give the Trenger family some four-day-reprieve from my unpredictability.

As Will so nicely put it.

"I'll be back on Sunday," I told Dad before he left for work. I had school anyway and he hugged me before heading out.

After school ended, I walked home with Liz who had been demoted to the most-archaic way of transportation since her mother had taken the car. Once there, we went to her room where we unloaded all our books.

We stared at them.

"Hardest or easiest first?" I asked her, casting her a glance.

She crossed her arms, tapping a finger against her lower lip. "Is there an easiest?"

I shrugged. "English isn't that difficult."

"What was the grade you got on that last paper?"

"A...D," my voice faltered.

"Then that won't work."

More silence ensued and the mound of textbooks and assignments seemed to grow in size.

"Oh!" I smacked my hands together, effectively scaring Liz. "What if we write the subjects on papers and stick them in a bowl like charades or something?" I offered.

She pursed her lips, debating. "That would add an element of excitement to an otherwise stressful ordeal."

So that's what we did. I ripped up the paper and Liz wrote down the subjects. We used two bowls, one assigned to topics, the other to assignments themselves, but the momentary excitement died down the instant the first ones were pulled from the others.

"Pre Calc," Liz read from the paper, the enthusiasm gone from her voice.

Her solemn tone mirrored my expression. "Best two out of three?"

Ten minutes later, we sat around two empty bowls and bits and pieces of strewn paper. Liz lay on her back, an arm over her eyes and I sat with my head in my hands. "This is bad," I remarked.

"They say you only experience high school once," Liz said. "But it looks like we'll get to experience it all over again."

I groaned. There had to be something we could do. "We could look it up online."

"Mom took the laptop."

I groaned louder. "We're screwed."

"Wait!" Liz shot up so fast, her forehead nearly smacked against mine. I looked at her wide-eyed, an idea sparking her features to life. "What?"

"Gimme your phone!"

"Why?"

"Just do it."

I complied and handed it over. She flipped it open and scrolled through something but I knew when she found what she was looking for. Her eyes lit and a smile spread over her lips. "Hah, I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

She showed me the screen and I barely registered the contact profile before she said, "That you have Will Trenger's number in your phone."

Uh oh. Oh please no, please no, please no.

I snatched for it but my fingers grasped empty air. "You can't!" I told her, but it was too late. She pressed send.

"Hang up!" I practically screeched, launching myself at the mobile. "Hang up, now!"

"Oh, it's ringing!" She pranced out of my grip, twisting around in evasive maneuvers. "I'm sorry, but your pride or embarrassment is not worth a second tour down memory lane!"

"You can't call him!" I shouted, darting after her. I hit my leg against her desk chair.

"I'm not," she deadpanned. "You are."

"No!" I couldn't. I couldn't ask anything from Will, not after what I'd just taken from him. There was bad and then there was downright shameful. This fell into the latter category.

"Give it back!"

"Yes?"

We both froze at the masculine voice that sounded from the speaker. I shot daggers at Liz, silently threatening her well-being. I suddenly felt tongue tied, and gestured for her to answer him.

She motioned for me to do it instead.

"Hello? I'm hanging up."

Maybe he'd think this was a wrong number. But what if he knew it was me? It would be worse if I let him go thinking I'd called for no reason other than to annoy him.

"Wait!" I yelled, mentally shouting at myself. This was the exact situation I had wanted to avoid. Liz made a "go on" gesture with her hands.

My glare intensified. "H-hey, Will," I said into the phone. "It's...it's Lu."

"What do you want?"

At least he wasn't hanging up. I could consider that minuscule thing a plus in hindsight.

"Um. I'm having difficulty understanding one thing on math. Could you, uh, could you answer a question? Just one but it's...urgent." My gosh, Liz and I were going to share some words after this.

Will didn't hesitate. "What question?"

Liz pumped her fist in victory as I scrambled for the textbook. I struggled to put the equation into verbal form, but managed and Will handed us the answer in under two minutes.

"Bye." He said. Before I could thank him, the line disconnected.

"Rude," Liz mumbled but I wasn't listening. I was trying to get my heart rate under control. "There," I said. "Now we're on our own."

With a determined exhale, I pulled the textbook onto my lap, Liz's on hers, pencils held aloft over open notebooks.

Minutes ticked by.

"What answer did you get?" I asked Liz when my confidence began to spiral. She chewed on the end of her pencil and didn't meet my gaze. "What answer?"

I fell backward onto the floor and let out a growl.

"Hey," she said, voice full of enthusiasm again. "Can I see your phone?"

* * *

"Stop calling me," Will barked on the other end. I rubbed my temples with my index fingers, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The phone was on speaker, lying between my legs. Workbooks sat open around us.

"Just one more," Liz begged from a distance. "It's only on History. History must be easy for you, uh..." Her expression told me she didn't know how to address him and I just shook my head. "Mr. Genius," she settled on.

I smacked my palm against my forehead.

"All subjects are easy for me," Will stated plainly, annoyance coloring his tone. I was biting my lip so hard, I could taste the copper tang of blood. "Yes, we know. Last one and then we are done. Finished," I glared at Liz. "Content in asking nothing more."

"You have five seconds."

Liz smiled, oblivious to my glare as I read aloud: "Which U.S. President signed the immigration Reform and Control Ac-"

"Ronald Reagan," Will said. Then he hung up.

I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and jotted down the answer.

"This is great," Liz said. "He's like our personal encyclopedia."

"Who we will not be utilizing any further," I added with a warning edge in my voice. She shrugged and flipped to the next page. I followed suit but when my eyes fell to the question, I resisted the urge apply my coping technique of screaming into a pillow.

"Call him one more time."

"No!" I shouted at her, grabbing at my Spanish book. Again, on the first question, I was stumped.

"Cmon," Liz begged, clasping her hands together and rising to her knees. "If he didn't want to answer, he wouldn't have picked up the last five times."

I gave her a stern look."No."

"Please!"

"No."

"High school repeat."

"No."

"Gym for another year."

"Stop."

"McDonald's uniform."

Ouch. Now that one did hurt. But I wouldn't budge. I wouldn't. I was already embarrassed enough. Mere desperation had clouded my judgement in calling him, but now it was clear. And I was going to do no such thing again.

Seeing my resolve, Liz stood and left the room but returned a few minutes later. "You brought me to this," she said.

I looked up, suddenly wary. "Brought you to what?"

In her hand, she held her own phone and punched in a number.

"What are you doing?" I asked, feeling myself rise to my feet.

She nibbled on her nail, poised in a defiant stance. "Calling Will."

"But...but...how?"

Liz rolled her eyes. "I remembered his number."

Twenty minutes later, I stood in the front of Liz's house, waiting for Edith to pick me up. I thought this was going to help Will, but thanks to my nosy friend, I was doing the exact opposite of what I'd originally intended to do. If I remained here while Liz continued to badger and glean whatever answers she could from Will's brain, it wouldn't be good. The best I could do was stay somewhere else. That bridge was beginning to look more and more appealing.

Edith wasn't the one to pick me up, but Calvin. Which was okay with me; Calvin was less likely to question me on my sudden desire to be brought back, whereas Edith would somehow discover Will's assistance and then pressure him to assist more and the last thing I wanted to give Will was pressure. And inconvenience.

It was an overall quiet trip back to the house for which I was comfortable with. However, It was short lived.

When I walked through the door, someone instantly groaned. My eyes fell over to the living room couch, and the youngest Trenger that sat there. "No," Lucas whined, tossing his head back against the cushions. "I thought you were supposed to be gone for a couple days."

"Nice to see you, too," I replied, hoisting my bag over my shoulder before ascending the stairs. I wouldn't be unpacking it, though. I had a plan. It wasn't the best plan, but it was a plan nonetheless.

To my imminent relief, I didn't run into Will between the first floor and my room. Which is where I stayed until my plan was implemented a few hours later. Luckily, I hadn't elaborated on why Id returned, other than that Liz had postponed our get together until the evening. It was a painfully transparent lie, but I doubted the Trenger parents were accustomed to lying children. Their two prodigies had no reason to conjure such falsities to avoid hardships. Because they had none.

My plan centered around my allowance and a reservation held in a nearby hotel. This was the reputation teenagers got nowadays; sneaking out to go lounge in hotels with that of the opposite sex, but that was just a flawed misperception of what was otherwise a young girl trying to spare a family of anymore unneeded trouble.

I tried to come down from my room as quietly as I could, careful not to fall, but since when did my caution ever oblige? Halfway down the flight I tripped, unable to see well through the poor lighting. I heard something crash however, and guessed Id knocked down one of Edith's candles.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the lights to flicker on. But they didn't. I relaxed and came down the remaining stairs.

I could vaguely see the outline of the door against the black backdrop and I moved toward it, recalling the layout of the floor to lessen my chances of face-planting onto the hardwood.

"Did that car knock any sense of self-preservation out of you?" Will's voice made my heart take up residency in my throat and I felt my body jump a few inches into the air.

"Or are you just naturally reckless?"

I tried to see him but the struggle became unnecessary when he clicked on the kitchen light. There he came through the swinging door, arms crossed, hair unruffled which told me he hadn't yet slept.

I bit my lower lip, suddenly feeling like a burglar caught red-handed. "Um...I...am leaving," I said dumbly, mentally chastising myself. I wasn't lying. This was true. I just needed to stay between the borders of truth and I'd be fine.

"To West Wing Hotel?"

I froze. How did he possibly-

"Word of advice," he said, stepping towards me. "When you make a reservation, use your own phone and not the home line."

Well I would have, I thought, bitter resentment expanding over me. Had my phone not died.

"Okay, fine," I said, but still kept face. Somewhat. "But I'm not doing anything wrong or inappropriate. I'm taking...a temporary leave of absence."

"Well then you have to leave in order for there to be absence."

I paused, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn't look mad or concerned or disapproving. He looked perfectly stoic, an impeccable expression carved from stone. "Wait, you aren't going to stop me?"

He smirked, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "Why would I try to stop you? I assume you have your reasons; they're none of my business."

Huh. "I won't be gone for long," I said, "just until my Dad is able to move out. I'm tired of being a..." _Burden_ sounded a little too melodramatic. I decided on, "nuisance."

"That's a bit of an understatement," he said acerbically. "Since you crash-landed into my life, I've been in situations I never thought I'd be in."

I waved my hand hurriedly. "Yes. Yes, I know. I've caused trouble and rumors and inconvenience for which I'm sorry for. But I honestly didn't do any of it on purpose. Except for the...blackmail with the photo...but that was it!"

His lip quirked up in that ghost of a smile he so rarely revealed. "But that's my point. You don't even have to try."

"Hence me leaving," I motioned to the door. "I can't do damage if I'm not here. And you know, maybe you're cold and cynical and brooding and a bit arrogant-"

His eyes narrowed.

-"but I was in the wrong with the tests. I mean those were important, but I screwed it up. And I didn't just jeprodize your college opportunities but your future career endeavors and who knows what you could've done or where you could have gone if it hadn't been for me. So not only have I deprived you of something, but the fields you could have benefitted as well."

Plainly put, that's exactly what plagued me.

Will watched me with those speculative green eyes, black hair casting his cheekbones in shadow. "It wasn't just because of you, you know," he finally said.

I stared back, confused.

He rolled to the side until it was his back pressed against the wall and his eyes broke from mine to stare somewhere else. "I had time to make it back for the tests. But I didn't. It was my choice, in the end. Your accident just gave me the final push."

"So," I hesitated, still partially confounded. "So you...you don't want to go to a real upscale college?" He had to be kidding.

Will tilted his head until he was looking at me again. "That's none of your concern. However, I was considering attending the local college."

I let his words sink in. And then I let out a small gasp, eyes going round as disks. "Hold on. You're telling me that you...are willing to go to the same college I plan to go to?" Because that would be ridiculous. After all, he did...he did..."Don't you hate me?"

Will sighed, chest moving just slightly. "You're a troublemaker," he stated simply. "You cause a ruckus and leave a mess in your wake. But I don't dislike you."

I heard my mouth pop open and something between my chest and throat constricted. "Does that mean...you...like me?" I dove into the question feet-first.

He pushed off the wall and came closer. He raised his hand and tapped an index finger against my temple. "Don't let that go to your head. I'm saying you make things interesting. No need to read too much into it."

"So you wouldn't mind if I stayed?" I asked, watching as he passed me, headed up the stairs.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Not really. As I said, you make things interesting. Bothersome, yes, but interesting." He cast me a glance over his shoulder. "You have capability. I won't pretend I don't see that."

Then he started up the flight, completely unaware of the beating sensation that was nearly pounding its way from my chest.

"Turn on the lights before you come up," he added, "or you'll wake the entire house."

I bit my lip again, trying to get my sudden smile under control. That was as close to a confession as I was going to get from Will. I heeded his warning, though, and didn't let it go to my head. But I couldn't speak so much for the heart.

It did what it wanted.


	11. Chapter Eleven

As time progressed, I steadily became accustomed to sharing a house with Will. Weeks soon elapsed into months and the atmosphere around the home grew a little less awkward with time.

There had been the unfortunate encounter of Lucas discovering my feminine products in the bathroom once, but to my huge relief, it seemed to be the one field he wasn't educated in.

And I wasn't about to offer any insight.

But there were some things that even time couldn't change. That mainly being my academic performance. I was getting more daring in asking Will for assistance, though.

"Will, please," I groveled one Friday night. Everyone else was asleep which allowed me the perfect opportunity to ask him as he was in the living room, reading something that probably had to do with philosophy. I stood next to the couch, hands clasped in a pleading gesture.

He didn't even look at me. "No."

"But the exams are coming up and I. Need. Help."

His eyes flickered to me. For a second, I thought he'd concede. But he just shook his head. "No."

"Please!" I went down on my knees, coming in closer. Close enough that he started leaning in the opposite direction. "I'll do anything," I wagered. "But right now you hold in your hands one girl's dream of graduation. It's delicate. Please don't crush it."

He moved his head until I was staring directly into those green eyes of his. He spoke very slowly. "No."

"I'll...clean your room for you! For an entire month!" I offered.

Will returned to his book. "Unlike you, I keep my room clean."

"I'll organize your books!"

"Already done."

"I'll cook for you every morning!"

He looked up at me with a stern expression. "Never offer me that again."

I groaned, letting my face fall against the couch's arm. "I don't want to repeat senior year," I said into the cushion, but it came out muffled and indistinguishable.

"You have no one but yourself to blame," Will said.

I lifted my head again, resuming my plea stance. "I am begging of you, William," I said formally. His eyebrows rose slightly. "I will become your human slave. I don't care. I'll do it."

"Perhaps you skipped this chapter, but slavery was abolished," he said, still reading that insufferable book.

"But this is consensual!"

"I don't consent."

"But Will-"

-"Go away," he ordered. "I'm busy."

"Please," I tried one last time. "You could consider helping me to be a contribution to society."

He didn't budge. "No thanks, I don't want to be held liable for damages."

"I'll pay you," I said, tone desperate. I was scrounging for chances, but I'd take all that I could get if it meant a passing grade. Nothing else mattered right now.

Will cocked his head to the side. "In what? You have no money."

Fair point. "I'll pay you in...in...favors," I put lamely.

He smiled and I swallowed audibly at his expression. "What kind of...favors?" He asked impishly.

I twirled a strand of hair around my finger, suddenly regretting my choice of words. "Uh..." I drifted off, mind going blank. Suddenly, Will stood, placing his book on the couch. Then he was before me, leaning in. "Ask me one more time," he breathed.

When he didn't move, I fumbled back a step, cheeks going red as I glared up at him. I knew he was teasing. That's what Will did. He was a pro at the teasing.

"Why can't you just help me? It's not like there's much else demanding your attention," I lashed out, not looking away from his eyes.

He smirked, and leaned back on the armrest of the couch. "Time has nothing to do with it. I just don't want to."

"We all do things we don't want to."

"And you don't want to fail senior year. So you should just bear up and do it, right?"

I tried to take a calming breath, but it wasn't working. I clenched my hands very tightly at my sides. "Fine then. If you are so adamant. I'll do it myself." I turned and marched toward the stairs.

"Oh, or better yet," Will called after me, "you could ask Lucas for some help."

I let my response to that be the slam of my door.

* * *

"I don't get it!" I shouted at my textbook lying open before me. It was English. Simple enough, but I kept losing my place and getting confused. I did what I could before moving onto Lit which made me cry in frustration yet again.

"Why do I even need to read Romeo and Juliet?" I asked myself out loud. "It's universal knowledge of how it ends!"

I crossed my arms over my books and slammed my head down. English was too picky. Pre-calculus was too confusing. History was too dull. Shakespeare was too wordy. Seriously, why couldn't he just ever get to the point?

"I wonder if I can still keep my locker," I said to no one. But then the thought depressed me and I wound up letting out another growl.

My room door abruptly burst open and I spun around in my chair, gaze falling to Lucas, brown hair in disarray, dark eyes livid. I found myself suddenly scared of the ten-year-old.

I had no idea what he was doing until he pulled against something beyond my line of vision. Then Lucas was shoving Will into my room and glaring daggers at me. "Your yelling is keeping me awake!" Lucas shouted. "Will, help her so at least some of us can get some sleep." Then he turned and shut the door loudly behind him.

I stared at it for a minute, pursing my lips. Clearly I'd been annoying the wrong brother.

Finally, I looked at Will, standing stoic as ever, an unfathomable expression crossing his features. Seconds of awkward silence fell away until I mustered up the courage to speak. "Do you always do as your little brother says?"

It probably wasn't the best way to phrase it.

He crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to the door. "Looks like you really don't need my-"

"Wait!" I held up my hands. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry. Screw pride. I can't afford it anyway. Please," I motioned for him to come over and held my Pre-Calculus textbook out to him. Will smirked, but meandered over, lifting the book from me. He studied the page for a second.

"Easy enough," he said, pulling up the desk chair. "It's getting you to understand this that's going to be the challenge."

I looked down. "But isn't that the objective?"

"No," his gaze flicked to me. "The objective is getting you to understand this without causing me an insurmountable amount of stress."

"...Oh."

It took a good few hours for Will's teachings to finally sink in, but eventually, they did, and gradually my answers developed from very wrong, to not-so wrong, to right. The X's shifted into check marks and I began feeling pretty confident by the time half the world was deep in slumber.

"And," Will drew out when the last equation was completed. "That's correct."

Blinded by my euphoria, I threw my hands around him, jumping up and down. I felt Will go rigid beneath my touch which made me realize what I was doing and my hands dropped off, as if stunned.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "And thanks. A lot."

"I won't be doing this every time," he warned, turning in his seat until he was facing me. I knew he was tired by the sallow look beneath his eyes and the messy hair he'd caused by running his hands through it in frustration. "So don't get too used to it."

I shook my head emphatically, making myself slightly dizzy. "Believe me, I won't. Getting you to comply is actually more difficult than schoolwork," I said without thinking, and then regretted it after.

His lips creased in a frown. "I doubt that'll get much notice on an application."

"You're right. It'll only be appreciated when others discover it for themselves," I said with a hearty sigh, not missing the narrowing of his eyes.

"Thanks again," I said as he stood to leave. "You've just ensured the future of a fellow classmate." I extended a thumbs-up.

He ran his fingers through his black hair once more as he pulled the door open. "I may regret his," he said, before closing it shut behind him.

* * *

I really should do something to thank him, I thought to myself as exam week neared. He'd stayed up with me late into the night and my entire graduate success hinged on his assistance. Might as well do something that made him know I wasn't just using him for his brain.

My only problem then was deducing what to get him and the means of purchasing it since, well, I was broke.

"I saw a 'help wanted' sign at the Golden Cafe in town," Daryn informed me at lunch. "You could work there part-time, if you're wanting some extra cash. What's it for?"

I tried to mask my reasoning with the excuse he'd just handed me. "Like you said. Extra cash."

I did not want to elaborate that I was willing to put in this much effort in order to receive the financial means of buying something for Will. That would result in a lecture from Daryn that wasn't so much a lecture as it was a list of Will's personality flaws.

So after school concluded, I made my way into town towards the Golden Cafe. It was a nice enough place; cozy in a small-woody enclosure sense, the aroma of coffee wafting around the room. I spent twenty minutes talking to the manager who was a pleasant woman and once I left and was a decent distance away, I did a little hopping dance.

My first job that was not the cliche babysitting gig was secured.

"So that's a medium coffee, one pump of vanilla with milk but no whip," I read. The man I was waitressing on shook his head. "With two-percent milk," he amended.

I nodded as pleasantly as I could without showing any of the hostility I felt. "Right. Sorry. Coming right up."

It was my first day, but things seemed to be running smoothly. I still had school and came here directly afterwards, having come up with the excuse of extra studying to anyone who asked at home. My shifts were only five hours, but the cafe was a busy spot which left me drained and exhausted after. I'd tromp home as if weights were tied to my legs and retire to bed without eating dinner.

On the occasions I did actually remember to eat, I'd usually end up sitting dazedly at the table, blinking infrequently.

"Mom," Lucas complained an evening after my shift. I'd gotten off early for once but that did little to deter my exhaustion. "She's scaring me."

I rubbed my eyes and shook my head, trying to wake myself up more. "I appreciate your concern, Lucas," I said, tone laced with sarcasm. "But I'm perfectly fine."

"I've never seen someone try so hard with their brain only to face such grandeur physical repercussions," Will said from beside me. I raised an eyebrow, mentally trying to figure out his words. On little sleep and school in addition to work, my already limited ability to think was suffering a devastating blow. "I'm not even going to attempt to figure out what you just said," I replied, standing. "Night."

And that's how the next two weeks progressed. Once, I even fell asleep at the table which brought some concern, but I reassured everyone that I wasn't overdoing it. That was a complete lie, however. I was totally overdoing it, which was proven in the amount of coffee I found myself needing. I became heavily reliant on my caffeinated elixir. It was my metaphorical floaty in my sea of responsibility and work.

But it became worth it when payday arrived and I left that evening, clutching the small slip in my hands. This little, frail thing meant money and I held it tightly, ensuring I wouldn't drop it. I already knew what I was getting for Will. It had taken a bit of browsing and brainstorming and general observation, but I managed.

After school the following day, I picked it up my chosen gift at the store before heading home. I wouldn't deny that I missed the feel of a check in my hands, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to quite literally pay.

For some reason, when I walked through the door, I found myself feeling nervous. This was the love letter disaster -as Id so deemed to call it-all over again.

 _Thank you, Will for your help. This is a token of my appreciation_ , I mentally repeated. But then I scratched the word token because honestly, who talked like that now?

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. The package wasn't that heavy but it suddenly seemed like a brick I was grappling to keep ahold of. Only Edith was home yet but she was downstairs and I called out a hello and then started for my room.

On the second floor, before I had the time to reach the sanctity of my room, Will opened the bathroom door and I let out a small, weird-sounding yelp.

His hair was wet from a shower, strands so dark they looked like ink, spilling down the sides of his face. He gripped a towel in one hand and paused when he heard my unbecoming cry. "Lay off the coffee, will you?" He said. "It's making you more anxious than usual."

As if to prove him right, I nodded, jittery. "I, uh..."

He waited, giving me an impatient look. Nearly forgetting the box in my hand until that moment, I extended it then, to him. "This is for you," I said, reprimanding myself for making the words sound so nervous. "I mean it's no big deal, but this is as a thank you for helping me on more than one occasion and I can't possibly think of doing anything to return the favor unless you want your clothes to turn out pink and four sizes smaller or for your breakfast to be charred and inedible."

 _Stop talking_ , I thought and clamped my lips shut. "Um, yeah," I mumbled, thrusting it at him until his hands caught around it. "So here."

I felt like a witness standing up to a jury. No, better yet, as I watched him unwrap it, I felt like the defendant a moment before being judged as guilty.

Will pulled away the paper tediously slow and of course, this was the moment Lucas decided to come out of his room, only to find his brother and the woman he loathed opening up her gift.

When the paper fell away, one of Will's eyebrows cocked up and when Lucas meandered over, his did the same. "What is this?" The younger brother asked.

"A percussive massager?" Will read, the words holding a question in them. He showed Lucas he box and on the face of it was the image of the product, kind of resembling the broken end of a mechanized scepter.

I instantly regretted my decision. In fact, I was considering running away; to dive into the safety of my bed and stay there forever. But I didn't. I had pride, after all. I didn't know where it was, but it was probably somewhere.

"Uh, well. The position you constantly hold yourself in over books can screw up your spine alignment," I recited from one of the articles Id read. I hoped Will never reviewed the search history, or he'd find the words: _physical effects of reading, what smart people like,_ and my personal favorite: _the disadvantages of being a genius._ That one didn't pull up anything except the psychological aspects, which I spent more time on than necessary reading.

"I didn't want to buy a book," I said, "because odds are, you would've already read it. You don't really have any hobbies you seem to enjoy. You're not a fanatic of anything, except logic, but that has very little merchandise available. So my options were kind of...this."

With every word, I mentally kicked myself harder than the last. Will was giving me that I-don't-know-how-to-respond-to-this-person look, and Lucas wore the same one, just with a little more hostility and blatant disgust in it. "This is for old people," he deadpanned.

It was like dumping ice water on my head. "No, it's not."

"Will, she thinks you're old," Lucas snickered, turning to his brother.

Okay. So I'd evidently made a very fatal mistake. A mistake that really did end in the demise of my pride.

 _Rest in peace._

"What are you guys doing?" Edith's voice chirped and now I was practically backing into my room. I couldn't get there in time, though, before she appeared beside Will, looking at the gift and I stood by awkwardly, wishing to be anywhere else but here.

"Whats this?" She asked.

Will answered with a shake of his head and I took that as my cue to offer up an explanation. "Just something I...got as a token of thanks."

Again with the token. I cringed at my own words but tried to smile anyway.

Edith returned it but there was a look of concern in her chocolate eyes. "My chiropractor has one of these," she said. "They're very expensive, though. Lu, how'd you get the money to buy something like this?"

There was no point in keeping up pretenses anymore. "I...had a part time job for a week," I admitted, inexplicably feeling better at the confession. At least she now knew where I'd been. I had the impression she'd been worried.

Her eyes widened slightly but I shook my head dismissively, before she could make it into something big. I held out my hand to take back the package. "It's okay if you don't like it," I told Will. "I was running a risk either way."

But there was something in his features that seemed almost conflicted and before I could grab the package, he pulled it closer to him. "It's fine," he said.

Then that expression reappeared, the one I'd seen only twice before. It was the confused look, as if he were doing a problem in his head he couldn't figure out the answer to.

Before I could recover from my surprise, he retired to his room, package in hand.

For an awkward beat of silence, I thought it was just me that had noticed it. But this time, I wasn't. Lucas's perceptive gaze stayed glued onto their door and that was confirmation enough for me.

That I really had seen it.

And that even among his family, it wasn't a common expression he wore.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Please read and review! :)**

Exam week finally came and with it, a monotony of stress. Luckily, though, Will's help remained fresh in my mental refrigerator and I actually walked into the classroom with confidence.

The rest of the room seemed stifled and anxious, but I tried to breathe through the tension, as each exam came and went. I was tired still from my part time job Id just quit along with the studying Id been doing, but would not become unfocused.

I had a cheerleader encouraging me on in my head. Sure, it got annoying sometimes because the cheers got stuck in a loop, which was not helpful when the final exam, pre calculus, finally came.

Groans erupted from around the room. I thought I saw one girl cry. But even so, I clutched onto my confidence as if it were a life-preserver and hopefully sailed right through the questions with ease.

If not, then, I didn't want to contemplate that possibility.

When I returned home, sleep-deprived, food-deprived, and in just a fit of deprivation all together, I face-planted into the couch, dropping my bag on the floor.

"Finish your exams?" Will asked from what sounded like the kitchen. I nodded into the cushions, unaware if he could see it or not. "I swear, if I see one more formula, I'm going to snap like a twig."

"How do you think you performed?"

I turned my head to the side since it was getting hard to breathe. "I can't answer that. Because if I say I think I did well just to find that in reality I did bad, I'm going to feel not only stupid but delusional as well. Then again, verbally saying I did well may put some positivity into the world... You know, I'm just not going to answer."

I heard him sigh. "Sorry I asked."

"How about you?" I inquired, pushing off the couch and into a sitting position. I looked over at him, at the lack of conflict that should be on the features of those that did exams.

Will lifted his shoulders in an almost modest shrug. Or maybe it was arrogant and I was just losing my ability to tell. "How do you think?"

"It really kills you to act as if it at least took effort from you, doesn't it?" I challenged, passing a hand over the back of my neck. I was sore everywhere, and in every sense. "Why can't you just say something humble?"

"Deliberately say something humble so therefore I appear outwardly humble?" His eyebrows rose. "That's a manipulation tactic and is far worse than blatantly stating what I know, and that's that I did exceptionally well."

"Ugh. So...you had no problems?"

"No."

"Not even one erased mark?"

"None."

"Not even a second of uncertainty?"

He shook his head.

I pursed my lips, annoyed. "...Not even a-"

"Stop," he ordered, and then returned to the kitchen before I could say anything more.

The waiting was agony. I suffered a barrage of questions daily from myself: had I survived four years of academical challenge? Or was I doomed to repeat the year? It was the literal fate of any future career I wished to attain. And to come this far just to possibly fall face-first at any moment, well, was hair-pulling to say the least.

Every time I yanked open that darn mailbox and sifted through the envelopes that did not have my name across the face of it dampened my mood for the rest of the day. I liked to think I concealed it well but apparently, my emotions weren't as in check like someone else I knew of.

"Did you get your results yet?" Edith asked me as I came inside the third day I'd looked, after waiting impatiently for Mr. Reymond, the mailman who I had become well-aquanted with.

I bowed my head solemnly, my feet shuffling forward. I plopped down at the kitchen seat. "Nope. Nothing."

"Aw," Edith walked over and rubbed my shoulder comfortingly. It helped somewhat. "I bet you did just fine."

"Besides," Lucas added from across the table. "If you didn't pass, this just prolongs the inevitable. If you actually knew you failed, you'd feel a million times worse right now."

I glared scornfully at him, resisting the urge to chuck a breadstick at him. "Thank you, Lucas for that unhelpful perspective."

In my peripheral vision, I saw Will shrug. "He has a point."

I turned on him. "Anyone with above B-average grades is not allowed to hand advice or partake in my grievances! Understood?"

Both brothers chuckled, but heeded my warning and kept their silence.

The following day brought the same result; I ran out at exactly three o clock, scoping up and down the streets for Mr. Reymond. When I spotted his white little car, I started jumping up and down, hopping from one foot to another.

I practically pulled him out the door by the collar of his coat.

But he just shook his grey-shaved head. "Sorry, Hun," he said.

And that was the theme for the next week.

I lost about as much sleep as I had during the exams and it wasn't until nearly two weeks later that I returned to my three o clock post, my once-enthusiasm reduced to a somber saunter.

The only slightly good thing that had become of my dedicated patience was that Id been promoted from a last name basis with our designated mailman to first. I waved half-heartedly when Jerry finally pulled up. But I could see in the dark features of the old man some excitement.

"I think I have something for you," he said in his gruff voice.

At his words, my dormant enthusiasm returned with a vengeance. "Really?" I asked, hands clasped together. He smiled and handed me an envelope.

I took one glance at it an screamed. Then I proceeded to hug my mailman and dart into the house, just to forget the rest of the mail and run back again. Eventually, I made it inside with the collections of stamped paper, tossing it all except the one envelope onto the table.

"It's here!" I shouted, doing a weird, uncoordinated hop-thing. I tore off the lip of the package and pulled out the folded slip with shaky fingers

I eyed it, suddenly hesitant. "Please don't say fail. Please, please, please..."

"Imagine it," Will's voice came from over my shoulder, I twisted my head, nearly smacking my forehead against his. "Imagine opening that letter, just to find low digits that spell a repeat for you."

I narrowed my eyes at him, ignoring the skipped beat my heart gave at his close proximity. "Doubt your tutoring skills that much, do you?" I asked, tapping the top of his head with the empty envelope. His gaze flickered to mine and I was staring into ridiculous green. "No. I doubt your capabilities at receiving information correctly."

I mumbled something under my breath before forcing my eyes away, back to my folded fate. "I'm scared," I whispered, pulling open one corner. The fear grasped me harder. "No! I can't, I can't look. You do it!" I thrusted it at him and shielded my eyes with my hands, as if that would help.

"Wait," I dropped my hands. "I don't trust you to give me a straight answer. Give it back!" I plucked it from his fingers, having not moved an inch. With a resolute breath, I slowly peeled the edges back, eyes filling with typed print.

"Well?" Will asked after a moment. "Fail or pass?"

I didn't answer him. Too stunned to speak, I just pulled out my phone, selected a song, and pressed play. Then when the lyrics to _Gonna Fly Now_ began, I steadily ran up the stairs, Rocky Balboa-style.

Between the music and my pumping fists upon reaching the top of the stairs, I caught Will's partial grin. "Pass it was then."

* * *

I really didn't look that great in blue. In fact, the color oppressed me, but I went with it, continually blowing the tassel from my face. I stood in one of the seats below the school's stage, listening somewhat intently to the teachers as they paid their final respects. Some of it seemed a little sad, and I suddenly felt as if I were dying rather than making the next huge step in life.

When the diplomas were being distributed, each name called, the reality of graduation finally set in. This was the last time Id be here. This was it.

"Lewis Moor!"

At my name, I stood and began walking to the stage and up the stairs. I tried to be ceremonial, but it wouldn't be like me not to trip on the stairs and have the principal rush to my aid and ask if I was all right. I got there, though and took my diploma before returning to my seat, without much more grace.

The last person to receive their diploma however, was the valedictorian, Will. He stepped up and I couldn't deny that he pulled off the Royal blue. In fact, it made his eyes look turquoise and I heard audible sighs from the girls around me.

"Teachers," Will began, and I settled in my seat, attention now fully on the podium. Somewhere, I'm sure, was Edith, holding a tissue to her eyes.

"Parents, fellow classmates. It's with both joy and sadness that we close this chapter in our lives and begin anew. Unlike highschool, we don't know what to expect." His voice rang out over the auditorium, radiating authority and confidence. "We don't know exactly where we are going. Perhaps that scares many of you. Perhaps it thrills you. But take a moment to review these past four years we've shared. Recall the ambitions you had as a freshman. Compare them to the ones you have now, as a graduate. What is it you want to do? What is it you wish to become? This is your choice. These are your dreams. And though we now leave what's familiar in search of careers that will determine the quality of our separate futures, I encourage you to not only seek what is fitting, but what you are...passionate about."

My hands stilled in my lap and I stared at Will, feeling suddenly perplexed by his choice of words.

"Dreams are not just fairytales you conjure as a child," he went on. "Dreams are not far-fetched stories you simply wish would be true. They are real. They are tangible. And they are yours to freely pursue, not just for a better future, but a brighter one as well. They instill aspiration; drive. They enforce initiative and prompt determination. And it's so important to have that. Because a life that lacks passion, would be a lonely one to live."

My heart hammered against my chest.

"So as of now, spend these next years deciding. As of now, spend these next years dreaming. Congratulations, class of 2014!"

A cacophony of noise aroused, followed by the monumental tassel switch. Then caps flew up, raining squares of Royal blue. Still in shock, I was a little late on changing sides and the tossing my hat, which concluded in mine being the last to go up and the last to return. But I didn't care; I was too busy staring at Will, amazed by the incredible fact he'd included my words in his speech. Mine.

It took me a second to realize someone was calling me and I whirled around, moments before I was tackled in a hug by my father. Then came Edith and an awkward side hug from Calvin. Lucas didn't hug me which I wasn't exactly disappointed by.

"Let's get a picture of you guys!" Edith chimed, and I suddenly noticed the camera clutched between her fingers. She raised a hand and waved it frantically. "Will!"

When that failed to deliver her son, Edith cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted his name again. Will must've heard it between the monotony of noise and embraces, because he quickly emerged. His family congratulated him and of course, Lucas gave his brother a hug.

"You two. Picture. Now." Edith ordered, raising the lens of her camera.

I was sure Will was going to object. Or just avoid the ordeal and walk away, like usual. So I went rigid in shock when he draped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him.

"Wh-what are you-"

"Mom wants to take a picture," Will said, smiling to the camera. Even I couldn't deny it was a brighter sight than the flash that blinded me a moment later.

* * *

"It wouldn't be a graduation celebration without pizza," Liz chimed next to me, putting another slice of pepperoni on her plate. Our entire class occupied the one large room we'd rented in a hotel, merely for recreational purposes. Stacks of boxed pizza had been delivered earlier along with a variety of soda and what I was concerned was beer. I could tell because the slight tang of it spiced the air. It reminded me of the single party Id ever attended throughout high school, a decision of which directly afterwards I swore never to repeat again.

"This is it!" Liz continued, ravenously attacking her pizza. "We are done. We survived. We will go on!"

I raised my eyebrows at her. "I can't tell who you are trying to be right now; Gloria Gaynor or Celine Dion."

"Oh Celine, my Friend," she nodded around a mouthful of pepperoni. "Across distances and everything."

"What happened to Daryn?" I asked her, gazing around but coming up empty for the football player.

Liz shook her head mournfully and placed a hand on my shoulder. "He didn't make it, Man. He didn't make it."

Disappointment flooded me. "He failed?"

"Miserably."

I sat back in my chair, sad for my overly protective friend. I didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, because a sudden eruption of noise caught my attention. Around us, questioning murmurs spiked, heads turning at the sight of something beyond me. I didn't catch the gist until it had trailed down the table of students and finally, to us.

"The AP students are here."

"What?" Liz asked the girl who'd told her, nearly dropping her pizza. If I'd been holding a slice, I would've lost my grip on it, too. I stood up and craned my neck among other students, until I could see the new arrivals. They were indeed from the AP classes and instinctively, I looked around for Will.

My eyes must've been wired with some Trenger radar because I picked him out fairly quickly, enclosed inside a cluster of squeaking, squawking girls. It reminded me of a flock of geese.

And anyone who knew birds knew that geese were mean.

Will's gaze found mine and I quickly looked away, returning to my seat. Liz pulled on my arm.

"What?" I asked her. She pointed to my phone on the table, notifying me of a text message. I wondered if it could be Edith, asking me to get pictures but no, it was Daryn, telling me to watch the pizzeria entrance.

That was kind of cryptic, and before I could really abide by it, the lights dimmed and music sounded over invisible speakers.

A foreboding feeling pressed against me, just as a very familiar guy clothed in his leatherman jacket appeared, doing a very poor imitation of Michael Jackson's moonwalk.

"What. Is. He. Doing?" Liz asked me, just as the first lyrics to Eye of the Tiger echoed around the room. I was too scared to answer her, watching as the attention on the AP students shifted onto Daryn, followed by a multitude of claps and cheers. Me, well, I just kind of wanted to crawl under the table and hide there. Especially since I knew, boy did I know, that this little treat was for me.

But that wasn't all he did-nope. When the lyrics "Rising up to the challenge of our rival" belted out, Daryn pointed at who I knew was Will. Then he made his way over to me and I didn't know what he was going to do until he lifted my hand and kissed the top of it. By that point, I couldn't take it back and thoroughly lost all sympathy towards Daryn.

I glared at him and then at Liz, who wore a disgusted expression. "This is what you call miserable?" I shouted at her from over the noise.

She instantly glanced away and bunkered down in her chair.

I wanted to get on my knees and thank everything good in this world when the music finally stopped, but I refrained. Instead I just sat, clutching my head, wishing I were Genie. Then I could just blink hard and be gone. But I wasn't Genie, and I didn't miraculously vanish.

"What did you think?" Daryn asked me, smiling broadly. I took a calming breath, massaging my temples.

"I think if you want to live to see tomorrow you shouldn't come within grabbing distance," Liz answered for me and I nodded in agreement.

Daryn got the memo and quickly retracted, smiling sheepishly.

"And that is what a low IQ gets you," Will's voice suddenly rang out. I turned so fast in my seat, I almost knocked it over. Now that the lights were back on and everyone was seated, I found Will just a table over, eyes falling on me.

Fine. So I didn't like Daryn's dance-off, but Will's words suddenly made me mad. Which made me doubly disappointed since he had to do something like this just when I'd begun to think he wasn't as arrogant as he looked.

Daryn seemed as if he wanted to say something but I beat him to it. "Are you suggesting those that aren't afraid to be themselves lack intelligence?" I asked.

Will sat forward, green eyes calculative. "No, I'm simply saying those with a low IQ are more prone to reveal their intentions through emotion rather than through actual capability."

"Right," I nodded, anger spiking to a boiling point. "Because someone with a high IQ such as yourself is super approachable." Liz hooted in agreement at that. "But you know what is really ironic?" I asked. "You are much more capable and intelligent, but you're not likable. And that's a pretty important feature you lack for others to take their time to care about your smarts."

I was feeling pretty proud of myself right now, but unfortunately it was dashed in Will's following set of words.

"You find me likable," he stated plainly. "In fact, you find me so likable that you went out of your way to write me a letter of declaration. Isn't that how you'd define liking someone?"

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, and chuckles sounded around me like bells. "That was then," I murmured, ringing my fingers together.

Will nodded knowingly and stood, coming closer to my table. "If I recall, I'm the one you come to for help. This unlikeable individual."

"You help her freely?" One AP girl asked, voice holding surprise with an undertone of jealousy. I wanted to smirk at that but didn't.

Will smiled at me. "Only when she begs, because it's really a pitiful sight."

Oh. That did it. I glared at him so fiercely, my eyes burned. "You asked for it," I jabbed, rising to my feet and pulling out my bag. Inside, I grabbed my wallet and retrieved a square piece of paper. I returned my scowl to him. "Are you ready for this?" I asked.

He gave me a perplexed expression.

I smiled to myself and lifted the photo I had to both classes. I turned in a circle so they could get the full view of the little boy, adorned in women's clothing. "Feast your eyes, People, on Will in his younger years!"

It got the reaction I wanted. Gasps, giggles, and squeals from the women-chuckles and cackling from the men. My smile broadened at Will's obvious anger, eyes once so calm now vibrant, blazing green. "You thought there was only one photo?" I asked him, really wanting to push his buttons. "I wouldn't be so quick to flaunt that intelligence of yours."

Someone snatched the photo from my fingers and it circled the throng. Will had to work to get it back but by the time he did, it was too late; all of his classmates knew his traumatic childhood secret.

He turned back to me, black hair untidy, lips set in a firm line. His hand snaked out and latched around my wrist. "With me," he bit out, leading us from the groups. People moved out of his way; girls shot glares at me until we were out of the pizzeria and in the partially vacant lot.

It was already well past dark, the shadows throwing themselves greedily against the walls and on the road. Will tugged me along and I jerked my hand back until we both stopped, and he finally let go. An awkward silence hung over us. I could hear his angry breath leave him in spurts and my elation faded as quickly as it had come.

It had taken those insults for me to realize how tired I was getting of our little games. Of the incessant hopes and ludicrous dreams I found myself having. Of thinking for just a moment or two in the length that I'd known him, that perhaps he harbored some kind of affection for me.

But it wasn't worth the emotional torment that went along with it. Or my friends he insulted along the way.

"You know," I said, crossing my arms over myself. "You're a real pain to like. Most civil people would just appreciate having someone like them, accept it, and move on. But you...did you really have to turn it into a showcase of my feelings?"

He scoffed loudly. "What about you?" He asked, whirling on me. "Really needed to stock up on these photos now, didn't you? You're much more cunning than you seem; for once, I haven't given Lewis Moor enough credit."

I groaned, clenching my fists at my sides. "You provoked me!" I said, pointing at him. "You're the one that started acting conceited. You insulted us first. I just evened the score."

He didn't say anything at that and just continued to stand there and silently brood. I did the same, ignoring the adrenaline that pumped my heart abnormally fast. My hand tugged through my hair. "I'm tired of this," I told him, the anger gone from my voice. "I'm tired of wasting my efforts on you. I'm tired of wasting my time on you when I know you don't even care."

"Then what are you going to do about it?" He asked after a moment, eyes meeting mine again. "Are you just going to simply quit?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I don't want to like you anymore. But I should actually thank you. You made it easier because at least now I know with certainty what kind of person you are. You're a genius with a superiority complex. Who in their right mind would compete with that?"

"I didn't realize emotions could so easily be deterred," he said, and there seemed to be almost hostility to his words. "You say you've been attracted to me for, what, four years? And you can shut it down so easily?"

I bit my lip, unsure, but I wouldn't back down. "I'm not saying it'll be easy," I admitted. "But it's a goal of mine. And I work very hard to achieve my goals."

Will took a step toward me. And then another and another until I was pressing my back to the pizzeria's wall, staring into his vibrant green eyes. "Are you so confident you can do that?"

This time, I didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"You'll move on? Maybe find a guy compatible with your level of intellect?"

The anger came back, fierce and unyielding. I leaned forward until our heads were practically touching, until our breath mixed. "Yes. I'll find a guy who makes up in emotion for what he lacks in intellect. I'd rather someone like that, actually. Maybe I'll find him at college. Date. Marry. The whole deal. And you'll just be that 'one classmate' I describe to my children. The guy I use as an example of arrogance to avoid."

His jaw clenched. I expected him to respond with something as equally demeaning but he didn't.

Instead, without warning, the remaining space between us dissolved and his lips were suddenly pressed to mine.

Whatever thought I'd had was reduced to dust, the world surrounding me becoming nothing more than a distant place.

It ended when Will suddenly jerked back, staring at me blankly. For one single moment, his eyes were vacant, as far-off as I felt. He was much faster to compose himself, though, and I just stood there like an idiot, gaping like a fish out of water while he returned to his stoic self.

Will smiled down at me. "We'll just see about that."

And then he returned inside while I stayed where I was, unable to move, to think, or even to breathe.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**I love writing this story. It's not a huge page-turner with the drama, but it's fun. And some of my jokes even make me laugh. XD I hope you guys enjoy it, too!**

I didn't sleep. At all. In fact, I had to jam my fist in my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

Had Will actually...kissed me? Was it real? What did this mean? I rolled from side to side, replaying the memory over and over again. But my happiness lessened when morning came and I was forced to consider the possibility that today would be awkward. I hoped not. I didn't even think Will was capable of awkwardness and if our encounter were to be, I would be the sole producer of it.

"Don't be weird, Lu," I told myself as I opened the door cautiously and peered out of it. The hall was empty, Will's door shut tight. I blew a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing?"

The sudden voice made my heart jump and I screamed, slamming my back against the wall. I flinched at the pain that went up my arm due to impact, accompanied by a flood of nervousness. I looked up, but when I met Will's striking gaze, the memory returned and I looked beneath them. But under his eyes were his lips and that wasn't helping. I finally settled on glancing between the floor and the ceiling.

"What am I doing?" I reiterated.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you know?"

Well he certainly didn't sound any different; not even slightly uncomfortable. Disappointment expanded over me as I realized what this meant. It was a clear indication that our kiss hadn't affected him in the least.

Was I a bad kisser then? How could I fix that?

"I'm not doing anything," I said quickly. "Nothing. Zilch. I'm just standing here when you popped up and you should warn someone before you just appear," I rambled. "If I were an elderly woman, I would've died. From a heart attack. You shouldn't be so...so...careless."

I cringed internally at my words, then pursed my lips to keep from blurting more. I wasn't looking at him to gauge his expression, but I heard the exasperation in his voice.

"Why are you acting stranger than normal?" He inquired.

"Strange?" I asked, gaze still trailed on the ceiling. "I'm not acting strange. And if I were, would it still be strange since strange implies a deviation from ones original behavior? To be strange, I'd have to not be strange, but you basically just said I'm always strange. So either I'm strange presently, or not strange at all because it has become a consistently normal part of my behavior. So which is it?"

I bashed my hand purposefully against the wall to get myself to shut up, shaking it out afterwards. I caught Will's questioning gaze as he crossed his arms, staring at me. "What's wrong with you?"

I let out a "pfft" and shook my head. "Nothing! Nothing is wrong. What's up with the Twenty Questions? I'm fine. You're fine. Everything's fine. Have you eaten yet? You should. I'm just going to go to the bathroom and you...you should just stop thinking something's wrong because there's not." I finally met his gaze and then practically ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. A second later, I reopened it just to scream, "there's not!" before closing it again.

* * *

I took forever getting downstairs. First, I smoothed my hair and changed, but then assumed that looked too unusual and changed back into my pajamas and messed up my hair. I was going to brush my teeth, but I usually didn't do that until after breakfast. But who would be standing close enough to smell my breath? So I went back and brushed my teeth.

Finally, I got up the nerve to go downstairs, wondering all the while how I should act and reprimanding myself for making this all so complicated.

I sat down at the table, staring straight ahead. Then a sudden epiphany came to me: Why was I even bothering with breakfast? I could just avoid everything all together. Not the healthiest attitude, but I didn't care. I instantly stood up, just as Edith entered.

"Have you eaten yet, Lu?" She asked me.

I shook my head, and snatched up a piece of toast. "You know, I'm good. Not too hungry. I'm just going to..." I had no answer. Shoot.

Before I could conjure a reasonable excuse, Will entered and my thoughts died quickly away. Some part of me wanted to stay there and recall the memory of our kiss while everything else screamed a bloodcurdling "RUN!"

So of course, I followed the latter.

"I need to go," I deadpanned, turning toward the door.

"No!" Edith scolded in her mothering voice. "You need to eat something. Low blood sugar makes it harder to concentrate. Sit."

"But I-"

Her warning look told me not even to try and I resisted the desire to flee and sat down. I refused to look anywhere but at the table. Even as Edith passed me a plate of eggs, that table held my attention.

"What's wrong with you, Lu?" Edith asked me.

"That's a loaded question," Lucas fired from across the table. Edith kicked him in the shin.

I shook my head, eating my eggs as quickly as humanly possible. "Nothing. I don't know why people keep assuming there's something wrong. I'm fine."

"You're beat red," Will noted, and as if to prove him right, I felt more blood rise to my cheeks.

"It's warm in here," I offered lamely.

"We have the air conditioner on."

"I'm hot-blooded, okay?"

"The only type of hot you could ever be," Lucas added dryly.

I really wanted to follow in Edith's footsteps and give his leg a good kick, but I didn't. I just attempted to slow my eating by a fraction, choking some as I did so.

"Lu, what is it?" Edith pressed, dark eyes harboring concern. Of course, this made me feel guilty and I instantly wished I'd sucked it up earlier to eat at a normal human pace to avoid code M interrogation. Code M was short for mom, the only worse interrogation being a code CG: crazy girlfriend.

"I promise," I said slowly. "I'm fine. Maybe my excessive caffeine intake is finally taking its toll."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Will looking at me. "You seem uncomfortable," he deadpanned.

To contradict him, I met his gaze. "Am comfortable."

"You keep blushing."

"Sunburnt."

"From fluorescent lights?"

"UV rays."

"No, it's not that. You're acting almost as if something...happened with you," Will let the words drift, smiling that ghost of a smile. It really annoyed me. And I was doubly annoyed when my own heart played Benedict Arnold by knocking louder in my chest. Dumb organ.

"If you mean nothing then you are correct." I pointed at him with my fork, a bit of egg flying from the tip of it. "Nothing happened."

I hear Edith's intake of breath. "Lu, do you have an admirer?" Her voice pitched towards the end in that very girly, give-me-the-details kind of way.

I pursed my lips, wondering how I could get out of this one alive. "I don't...uh...think admirer is the appropriate term."

"You do!" Edith squealed and I held up my hands to ward off any celebratory remarks or inquiries alike.

"Ridiculous," Lucas muttered, shaking his head distastefully. "Who would be attracted to her?"

"One more word out of you and I'll take away your recreational reading time," Edith threatened. Lucas complied, but not without a final smirk at me.

His mother leaned over to my ear, as if we were exchanging secrets. "Who is it?"

I held my breath. "It's really no one."

"See, Will?" Edith suddenly scolded her eldest son. "You might miss your chance! I thought I taught my sons to strike when the oven is hot. Not to be such girls and wait around for it to cool just to lessen the hazard of being burnt."

I scoffed to hide my uncomfortable laugh, eyeing the door greedily. "I should get going..."

"No!" Edith objected. "You can't leave. I have to know if you like this man, too. How sly of him to insert himself at the opportune moment when Will and you were just getting along. But I need to know; do you feel anything for that guy?"

If my cheeks got any redder, I'd look like a clown. I scrambled like the eggs on my plate for something to say. Anything.

"I can say with certainty, Mom," Will said, no longer looking at me, "that she does."

Disappointment flooded Edith's features while more blood flooded mine. Meanwhile, Will seemed unaffected as he continued to eat, revealing no change in expression to his double-meaning words.

At the sudden turn of events, I caved into the instinct to flee and with as much composure as I was capable of, hightailed it out of there.

* * *

To my dismay, the awkwardness had yet to cease. I was just coming home after a long day of going anywhere that was home, hoping to make it to my room unnoticed. Perhaps I was overreacting. But if you pumped too much air into a balloon, it was going to break, and if I were to be subjected to any more interrogation by Edith, I'd pop. I'd divulge what had happened between Will and I and that thought terrified me more than anything else I'd experienced.

But fate never seemed to rule in my favor.

At the top of the stairs, Will stood, his arms crossed with his eyes on me. His back leaned against the wall as if he didn't have a care, black hair damp from a shower.

"You're home late," he said simply.

I peeked at him from beneath my eyelashes, trying to act nonchalant. "How observant of you."

"Not in any hurry to come back, it would seem." He gave me a knowing look, the one that made dread blossom over my chest. I knew I wasn't exactly being covert, but did he really have to point it out?

I swallowed loudly. "Goodnight."

"Not so fast," he ordered, stepping in front of me. I took a step back but unfortunately, that's where the stairs were and I would've fallen had Will not caught me. His face appeared just inches from mine, but unlike in the dark of the other night, right now I could see his irises clearly, exploding in galaxies of viridescent stars.

His lip hitched up in a half-smile. "Does this remind you of anything?"

"W-w-w-what?" My ability to speak diminished.

Will leaned closer, until his lips were by my ear. "Did you already forget?" He asked, his breath wafting against my cheek. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Have you succeeded in forgetting me?"

I tried to say something but what came out was an off-key squeak. I didn't pull away, though. Stairs. But I didn't want to, either, so I stayed there, caught between the lion and the cliff.

I closed my eyes.

A deep chuckle rang out. My lids snapped open and I stared at Will as he tugged me away from the stairs, laughing to himself. I gave him an appalled look, one that mirrored the inside. "You..." I pointed at him. "Are a jerk."

He shrugged. "You know the saying. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me. Though I never heard of someone being fooled a third time. And a fourth. Maybe a fifth-"

I shoved him. Hard. It earned me an annoyed look. "Don't touch me," he demanded.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't tease me."

"Why not? It's entertaining."

"You're masochistic."

"It's sadistic."

"Whatever." I stalked to my room, not bothering to say anything else, and slammed my door shut. I knew if this continued those hinges would eventually break.

* * *

"Lu! Wake up!"

I jolted into a sitting position, succeeding in throwing my pillow across the room. "What?" I asked whatever force had waken me so rudely. Through the bleary haze, I saw Edith, holding something up to me. I looked down.

I used to think that fathers were the ones who failed miserably in purchasing women's clothing. But it apparently wasn't so, because there indeed seemed to exist a woman who did not know what to put on a teenage girl. And I really wished I wasn't that unfortunate teenage girl.

Clutched in Edith's hand was a suit, a feminine suit complete in the pencil skirt and all of one solid color. I stared at it, hoping it would disappear. "Oh...wow," I breathed, because it was wow. Just not the good kind.

"I know!" Edith beamed, tugging me out of bed. "This is for you, for today. You have a tour of your college so you should look nice. What do you think of it?"

I shook my head, at a loss for words. "The...sight of it makes me want to cry," I admitted.

"Aw," she soothed, oblivious to my undertone. "It's okay, hurry up!" Then she flitted from my bedroom, leaving the fashion disaster and myself behind.

I didn't want to wear it. Actually, that was an understatement. I wanted this outfit and my body on opposite ends of the planet, but Edith had worked for this. She'd shopped and considered my feelings for it. Clearly not well, but it was sentimental all the same.

I tromped down the stairs, using the railing as support for the heels because yes, there had to be heels, too. My normally happy gait had dissolved into a shuffle, because this was coming at a financially steep price of my self-confidence which resulted in the drooped tilt of my head.

When I entered the kitchen and sat down, there was a moment of silence from everyone. It was soon followed by laughs from both Trenger brothers.

"What is that?" Lucas asked, laughing maniacally. I'd never heard him _giggle_ before.

"It's her outfit I prepared," Edith said lovingly.

"It looks like blood," Her youngest son deadpanned.

Edith wasn't listening. "What do you think, Will?" She asked, smoothing out my shoulder. I really didn't want to hear his opinion and resisted the urge to plug my ears.

"It looks like a home economics project," Will replied. "Gone wrong."

"None of you boys know fashion," she scolded her kids. I cast my dad a help-me look for which he just shook his head sadly as reply.

"She's Bloody Mary modernized!" Calvin added, chuckling to himself and I knew it was bad if it sent Calvin cracking jokes. And good ones. I rubbed my temples with my fingers, missing my normal, non-alien clothing.

"Like I said," Edith responded, unfazed by the insults. "Men do not know fashion."

"I'm suddenly envious of dogs," Will interjected, still eating maddeningly slow. Edith looked over to him. "And why's that?" She asked.

He didn't meet her gaze as he said, "because dogs are colorblind."

* * *

Edith lent Will the keys to her car. There would be no walking for us today, which I was fine with because unlike the high school, our college was not conveniently down the street. I would've offered to drive myself, if I had a license and if Will had any desire to die early.

My driving was awful, because my reflexes were awful. It's why Id failed at getting my license three times.

And then once more after that.

"If you have a license, why don't you have a car?" I asked Will as I hopped into the passenger's seat of the black sedan. "You kind of need both, I always thought."

Will cast me irritated look before starting the engine. I had to admit, he looked very good in his neatly pressed shirt and unbuttoned collar. Incomprehensible finer compared to me.

"My parents wanted to teach me discipline," he said, looking behind himself as the car pulled out. "They didn't want to hand me everything just because they were financially able."

"Huh. It's too bad it was ineffective in making you a better person."

"Do you want to walk?"

I said nothing more. It was a silent, twenty minute drive to the college, all of which I spent tugging at my red clothing in the poor attempt to make something look better. The only thing that could help it, though, was a garbage bag.

I forgot about the suit when we pulled up to the college front. It certainly didn't look very small, clusters of buildings titled different letters fallowing the grass lawn. Kids walked to and from, the sight making me somewhat giddy.

Without much consideration, I ran up to Will and hooked my arm through his. "This is going to be just like high school, only better. You can practically hear the pages of our new chapter in life unfolding."

"Rule," Will bit out.

I glanced up at him, meeting his green gaze. "Huh?"

"What's the number one rule?" he asked. At my confusion, his eyes fell to our interwoven arms and I realization dawned on me. "No touching you," I said.

He nodded. "And what are you doing?"

"Touching you."

"Which means?"

"That I should stop."

Quickly, I let him go, taking a fair-sized step back. Then I waved dumbly, gesturing for him to go first. Will rolled his eyes but set off and I trailed behind him, staring at the building complexes and the people exiting and entering through them. It was a nice day but hot and I was relieved when we entered the office building. The lady sitting behind it directed us to the rest of the group touring the college and we joined them. Will sent me another warning glare, one that told me not to stick to him like glue. I obliged and went around to the opposite side.

Why would I want to stay by him anyway?

I moved over to a throng of other students, remaining with them as the tour guide began her long chatter. Some cast my outfit weird glances which made me feel self-conscious. Luckily, though, about an hour later, maps in hand, we broke off for a bit to explore on our own and I most definitely did not search for Will. Rather, I ventured off to the library, before heading down outside to get some air. It was pretty here, after all. Not in the over-the-top, screaming money kind of pretty, but it was fresh and did not resemble the prison our high school did.

Which was good enough for me.

I stayed there until it was time to regroup. Actually, I'd completely forgotten about it and when I realized the time, fled back to the gathering, stumbling until I was forced to take off my heels before resuming my race.

But when I ran through the door, I heard a squeal and stopped just in time to see a girl drop her books.

Great. It wasn't even day one yet and I was already causing a problem. I was about to bend down to help her when someone stepped in. Someone black-haired, green-eyed, and ill-tempered. "What are you doing?" He asked me, eyes falling to my heels clutched in my hand.

I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. "I...uh...I'm gonna take the fifth," I said.

"The fifth?" His eyes narrowed.

"Amendment," I clarified.

Will shook his head, almost disbelieving before returning his focus to the girl. "Here," he said helping her with her books. "Are you okay?"

The girl nodded and Will offered her a hand up. She smiled at him.

A bad feeling spread over me. Not a physical bad, but the intuition-bad, the sort that made women feel inexplicably threatened. That's how I felt when this living blonde-haired, blue-eyed Barbie met my gaze. "I'm fine," she said in a sultry voice. She turned her head to him, perfect curls flying. "Thanks, Will."

 _Woah, what?_ I felt as if someone had just stepped on my territory. It was an uncomfortable feeling and I didn't like not liking people without having a good reason.

I tried to mask my curiousness that bordered on hostility. "Oh...you guys know each other?"

The girl flashed me a white smile. "We just met. I was actually looking for him specifically. I heard about a genius and the rumors got me interested."

My grip tightened around my heel straps dangling from my hands. "How..."

 _Stalkerish of you._

"How nice. Yup," I nodded. "Will's smart. A bit emotionally impaired, but once you get over that..." As if to demonstrate, Will glared at me and I bit my cheek to keep myself from making this worse. I returned my gaze to the girl who was appraising my attire, her smile reaching her eyes.

It felt genuine in the sense that I felt she was genuinely laughing at me.

"And you are?" She finally asked.

"A troublemaker," Will remarked. It was my turn to glare. Ignoring my stupid feelings, I extended my hand to the girl. "I'm Lu. It's nice to meet you."

She returned it, her grasp light and delicate. It was like like shaking hands with a flower. "Stacy Saltzman."

Gosh, even her name was pleasant. Completely unlike the witty remarks that came with mine: _Lewis and Clark went over the moor._ Hilarious.

Awkwardness ensued as Stacy exchanged a look between me and Will, communicating something I obviously didn't see. "Is she your girlfriend?" She asked him.

Excitement expanded over me like warmth. It evaporated instantly because he responded in a nanosecond. "No," he said," effectively crushing whatever remnants of hope I'd harbored that the kiss had meant anything to him. "Definitely not."

Stacy smiled again and sure enough, this one too, reached her eyes.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**OKAY, I know it would be interesting to hear this story from Will's POV, so, what do you guys think of me writing some, if not the rest, of the story from his perspective? Yay? Nay? Hey? I don't know, but I kind of want to write from him, as it would be very different. So so tell me your thoughts!**

"I think we should leave," Dad told me suddenly, after everyone had gone to bed. I glanced up at him, perplexed."Leave as in go upstairs or...?"

Dad gave me a somber look and I knew. It was weird because beyond my collision with the car, I hadn't considered leaving. I didn't want to, and I actually had to remind myself that we weren't one big happy family, just a small broken one barging in on the hospitality of another's.

"We've been imposing on them for too long," dad continued. "You and Will are about to start college next week and I think it's best if you don't become reliant on him. This was always meant to be temporary."

Hurt radiated from my chest, but I wouldn't show it to my father. This was hard, yes, but I didn't want to make it harder. "Okay," I said.

After I hugged him goodnight, I went upstairs, my vision going blurry. How had I managed to forget that living here was short-term and nothing permanent?

I was nearly to my room when Will's opened and he stepped out, just in time to see my face. I thought I saw something shift in his features, but they rearranged themselves before I had a chance to blink.

I quickly cleared my throat, hoping to come off as my care-free self. "Night," I said, upbeat.

"Something's bothering you," he said, words accusatory.

I could never get away with anything when it came to this guy.

There was no sense in hiding what my dad would share come morning. And it wasn't like I was embarrassed at him seeing me upset over leaving his house. I was just more afraid at how he'd react. At how happy he'd be.

I crossed my hands over my chest, trying to meet his gaze. "We're moving out," I told him.

Again, I saw that momentary change in features, bordering on hesitancy and something else I couldn't place.

"Good," he replied, his voice flat. "Maybe we'll finally get some peace around here."

"I'm glad you're happy," I said, but I wasn't being sarcastic. "I know the trouble I've caused here and I get it. You guys never asked for this anyway." More tears pricked my eyes but I swallowed them back, looking away from Will. "Well, goodnight," I said hurriedly, then entered my room and closed the door behind me. I went straight to my bed and laid down, pressing my face into the pillow to muffle the sounds of my crying.

* * *

Edith's hug was bone-crushing, but not in a bad way. It hurt in the terms of her hold being too tight, but necessary to keep us both from falling apart. I had to maintain my composure, though. If not for my benefit, then for her's.

"Thank you," I told her when she finally let me go. I wanted her to at least know how much everything she'd done meant. "Thanks for showing me what it would be like to have a mom," I said.

Edith bit her lip to keep from crying but I saw it quiver. She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "On behalf of your mother, I want you to know how great of a daughter you are."

Well this wasn't making the no-crying-policy easy to follow. I turned to Calvin and gave him my thanks. He told me to visit anytime, for which Lucas didn't bother hiding his scoff at. Then it was his turn. "Thanks for letting me use your room," I told him. "I mean, I know you wouldn't have if you'd had a choice, but thank you for being forced into it, I guess. And not killing me in the middle of the night."

He shrugged and I wondered how many times he'd entertained the idea.

And then it was the most dreaded farewell. I took a breath before meeting Will's penetrating gaze, fists tucked into his jacket pockets. I smiled. "Bye, Will." Simple words didn't seem enough, so I stuck out my hand to prolong our time.

For a moment, he waited. But then his hand wrapped around mine, the warmth of his fingers spreading through me. The dull ache that had been in my chest all morning grew into an agonizing throb. Last time we'd touched, it had been a kiss. This time it was a goodbye.

"Don't visit too often," he said.

Edith shot him a glare, but his words barely stung and I smiled once more before getting into the front seat of the dented truck dad had just bought. I kept the smile in place until the engine started and we were driving. Then the policy expired and I let the tears have the right of way.

* * *

"So you're out?" Liz asked me.

I nodded. "Yup."

"Like out-out?"

"Yes."

"Like not living with Will anymore, out-"

"Yes! That's exactly what I mean. Two separate households. Two irrelevant housing departments," I said, then took a calming breath.

Today was the first day of college, and as much as I'd wanted to be excited, my enthusiasm was wilting. On instinct Id sought out Will, only to realize I didn't have a substantial reason to speak to him. That reminder hurt and I was forced to catch him from a distance, entering the school. I'd also spotted the life-sized Barbie figurine tailing behind him which had made my mood doubly cloudy with a high chance of rain.

Liz clucked her tongue audibly. "Sad thing," she mused. "I can see the symptoms already."

"What symptoms?" I asked as I pulled the door open, stepping outside. It was a free period for the both of us and I wanted to at least enjoy the sun some.

"Environmental withdrawal," she said.

I narrowed my eyes in question. "Huh?"

She sighed, exasperated. "Environmental withdrawal. Irritably, mood swings, discomfort, dietary changes. Are you suffering from any irregularities?"

"None that I feel so inclined to share with you."

"Ah, Friend," she said, grabbing my hand and whirling me around. Her blue eyes stared deeply into mine, wide to the point of scary. "Stop seeing this as a bad thing. Take a breath! Do you smell that? The purity of it? It's the lack of Will Trenger's cologne snuffing up your senses."

"Will doesn't wear cologne," I pointed out.

She paused. "Wait, he naturally smells that way?"

"How close have you been standing to him?"

A pause. Then Liz shook her hands, discarding my inquiry. "Doesn't matter. The point, Lewis, is that you are free. You don't have some pompous narcissist sleeping from across the hall anymore. You don't have the dictator and junior dictator-in-training waiting around for any chance to knock you down. That house was the cocoon to your caterpillar, but now you've broken your chrysalis and can finally spread your wings."

"Can you omit some of that analogy, please?" I asked, taking a seat on the grass. "It's a bit overwhelming. And largely disturbing."

"Fine," she raised a finger. "Just stop being Polly the Pessimist and move on. Find a nice guy. One that's healthy and not emotionally detrimental, okay?"

"It's fine anyway," I said, some hostility spiking in my voice. I started pulling up grass. "Someone else has already taken my place as Will's puppy."

"Who?"

"Stacy Saltzman."

Liz's eyes went wide again and she nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised. Ugly personalities attract other ugly personalities."

I suddenly felt interested. "What you mean by ugly?"

My friend cocked her head from side to side, as if weighing her words. "She's not a bad person, but that doesn't mean she's tolerable. I know she was the smartest kid at her school, an all-girls academy, and had a few other scholarships but chose this place."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Like I said, ugly personalities attract. She came for Will. I have a theory that their superior brain cells were calling out to each other," Liz shrugged.

"He was her only motive?" I asked, somewhat appalled. At least have some sense of priority.

Liz shook her head. "I don't know if he was the only the reason, but I think he was one of them. I mean I'm all for maintaining high standards, but I think this chick's digging a bit too deep."

"So I guess in simplest terms, my shot is, well...nonexistent."

Liz gave me a sympathetic look and stroked my hair. "Look in the bright side; there's always Daryn."

My glare made her quickly retract her hand.

* * *

When lunchtime came, I resumed my search for Will. And then I realized what I was doing and quickly stopped. I tried to not look for him, but it was hard to avoid that throb that took up residency in my chest when he actually did walk in, with the blonde bimbo clinging to him like gum on your shoe.

I clenched my fists together. He didn't like to be touched, by anyone. Or was it different with me? Was I the only one who didn't get Will-touching privileges?

How unfair.

I quickly took a seat, successfully spilling my water. I pulled out a few napkins from the dispenser on the table and soaked up my mess. To my luck, I heard the chairs behind me being pulled out, silently praying that it wasn't Will.

On the bright side, It wasn't. On the ever gloomier side, It was Stacy. I bent my head forward, hoping to go unnoticed like usual. I assumed some didn't recognize me without the red mess that was my outfit last time, and if they did, they made no move to show it. All in all, I wore my social cloak of invisibility and no one really even looked at me.

"Lu!"

Except for one.

Cover blown, I shifted in my chair, just enough to meet Stacy's startlingly blue gaze. I really hated prejudice, but it would be dishonest of me to lie and say I liked this woman. I didn't. I really, very-not like this woman.

I tried to smile as best I could. "Hey. Nice to...to see you."

Lie.

She beamed falsely at me, exposing her polished teeth that could make even Barbie herself a bit envious. She glanced at my empty table. "Aw, sitting alone today?"

I bit the bottom of my lip to prevent insulting this person. "Yup. All alone. By myself. Just me."

"Bummer," she shook her head mournfully. "I'd offer a seat here, but we have no room."

At that, my eyes flickered to Will who met my gaze for a moment before skirting away. "Guess I lucked out," I said.

Stacy nodded again, before patting my shoulder. "Well, enjoy your lunch!"

I would've, if my appetite hadn't already been ruined. I took a swig of my water and pushed my tray away from me, hunger replaced by a gnawing annoyance.

"William!" Someone suddenly screamed, and I quickly looked over to a man, perhaps in his early twenties, racing over to the table behind me. He was decent-looking enough; sandy blonde hair, built physique, brown eyes. He wore a jersey of some sort and I would've thought him pretty normal, had it not been for the beach shorts he wore that were a bright green. But after my red-suit event, I wasn't about to judge someone for their clothing.

He took a seat by Will, leaning in closely. I watched from the corner of my eye, interested in this new person who, for once, wasn't female.

"So are you game?" He asked.

Will didn't even look up. "No."

As little as it was, I felt consoled by the knowledge I wasn't the only one he refused.

The man wasn't having it. "Please," he begged, draping an arm around his shoulders. Will sent him a look that had him quickly pulling away with a cough. "Man, I'm telling you, you'd be great."

"I know," Will admitted, not very self-deprecating. "But I don't want to."

"Do you know what kind of players I could get if your name was on the registered form?"

Players? I was intrigued. I tried to lean back a little to hear him more clearly.

"I'm not into that," Will said, in his usual empty voice. "Find someone else."

"I'll join," piped up Barbie-I meant Stacy. This wasn't surprising to me and judging from his lack of enthusiasm, to Will either. "Have fun."

Ha-ha.

"How about this," the man said, setting up for negotiation. Or bribery. "You only have to show up for events. Any other time, you can come and go as you please."

I smirked. Bribery it was then.

"So you'll just be using my name as propaganda," Will said.

A beat. of silence passed and the man cleared his throat. "Yes. No. Well, yes and no. Yes, your name would benefit me, no in that you would still be part of the group but without any obligations."

"Just for tournaments?"

"Yes. Tennis tournaments aren't even that frequent. I'm very flexible."

Tennis? Will was signing up for Tennis? Now I was surprised, but more so when I heard him say, "fine."

I sat there with my jaw open, completely taken aback. What was so attractive about tennis? Or had I been wrong in assuming Will wasn't excited about Stacy joining? Did Will even do excitement?

I didn't even realize when lunch had ended, too caught up in my own thoughts to realize a half hour had breezed by. But the bell went off and I gathered my things, food still untouched. So Will was going to join a club. A tennis club. It sounded about as appealing as golf, the only difference being a racket to a...well...club. Did that make it a club club then?

I shook my head, disbanding from that trail of thought. Maybe it was best if I joined a club, too. Not the same one, though. No, most definitely not the same one. That would be bad. And very obvious. I didn't need obvious. I needed aloof and cool. Not wet-puppy mode. No. I would not even entertain the idea. Not for a single second. I would not picture Will's arms around me, instructing my swing to perfection. I would not. If I chose that, my life would be endangered.

I took a breath, resolute in my choice.

But then again, if he couldn't legally kill me for it, was it really that bad of a decision?


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**I'm sorry this has taken...*checks calendar*...four months to update. Crap. Four months? Dang, I apologize. But this one IS from Will's perspective so I get to have feedback on that. Again sorry. But please enjoy!**

My hypothesis was correct.

Ten minutes had elapsed since I'd been practically dragged against my will to the private room in which the entire group of tennis players gathered. It was nothing spectacular-a lodge with an eclectic assortment of chairs and couches, rackets hung in one pitiful row. That was as many tennis players Michael could scour.

Ignoring everyone, I sat down with my legs crossed, discarding the bombard of questions I received. I eyed the door conspicuously, because I knew what was coming. All five foot six of it; of pure, unattainable trouble. At least, this was my theory. And it was proven correct nearly fifteen minutes later, when Lu busted in unceremoniously, out of breath and red faced.

"I would...like to join, too," she gasped out, bending over with her hands on her knees.

Oh, I was tempted to laugh, but I wouldn't. Instead, I remained stoic as usual, epithetic of her presence. She'd regret her decision soon enough.

Michael Duff, the leader and core organizer of the tennis club scrutinized her from head to toe. She wasn't much to look at when it came to sports, I knew. She didn't offer a good arm or a decent aim. In fact, her throwing arm was awful and her trajectory even worse. I'd never seen her toss something, but I didn't need to. I knew I was right.

"You're too...Little," Michael said, voice devoid of sympathy.

Lu wasn't having that. "I'm not much shorter than you," she deadpanned, defiant in her stance.

I settled farther in my seat, content with watching this play out without interference.

Michael's eyes narrowed as he pointed at her with the end of his racket. "Do you have any experience with this sport? You have to in order to join."

Now that was completely false, but I just studied the scene, entertained as Lu grappled with a way to override his verdict. "That's not fair rule," she said.

Michael scoffed, cementing his posture into a rigid line. "I lead this time. I make the rules."

"Will, do you have any tennis experience?" She asked me. I momentarily blanched but recovered within a second. I shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. "Not really, no," I admitted.

Lu returned her gaze to Michael with that hah-expression I found amusing. "Don't tell me you also have to have an IQ above 170 to be eligible, too," she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's discrimination against the intellectually defective."

Michael gaped, then glared, then forfeited. There was no way out of this trap he'd laid for himself and finally nodded in defeat, casting a forlorn glance at me. "Fine," he said, a derisive edge to his voice. "But if you get clobbered out there, Sunshine, don't blame me." He wagged his racket for emphasis.

"What, do you beat each other with those?" She mumbled as she took a seat, near but not too near to me. It was painfully clear in what she was trying to do and I didn't know whether I liked it or was annoyed by it. I weighed it on a pro-con scale, the upside being entertainment, the downside being trouble and inconvenience. When it included Lu, it was the only scale I weighed it on.

"Okay," Michael clapped his hand. "Time for tryouts. It's a free period, so grab a racket, a water bottle, but leave your dreams behind because they are a hazard to have around. You know, in case they're broken."

"That's a motivational speech if I ever heard one," I caught Lu say, standing to retrieve a racket. I followed behind her, Stacy trailing behind me. "Want to be partners?" she asked, the hopefulness in her tone disparagingly evident.

Even a blind man could tell Stacy was alluring just by the sound of her voice. She was attractive, but that was often misinterpreted as being fond of someone, which I wasn't. I wasn't anymore attracted to attractive people than I was to those generic in their appearance. One may be more visually appealing than the other, but that was the only difference, and it was a superficial one.

"I think it's just tryouts," I said, before walking out the door.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Lu studying Stacy, a very un-Lu expression crossing her features. I swallowed my scoff, wondering if she knew how vivid her thoughts were, displayed in every line of her features. She thought with her face, and little else.

The courts were located just beyond the first bricked complex the entire group was there within minutes. The sun burned from above, bleeding heat down onto the courts. It would've become soon unbearable, if not for the clusters of tall shadowing trees rustled by a light wind. Michael quickly instructed us all to stand in a row, facing him. Then he stepped to the opposite side of the net, clipboard and racket in hand.

Michael continued with his taunting as he breezed through the list.

Stacy went ahead of me and Lu, but I didn't need to watch to know that she was good. Steady form, strong arm, nice fall through. She would make it, I had no doubt. Instead, my attention remained on Lu, listening in quiet amusement as her nervous foot hopping grew more and more frequent. That was another of her nervous ticks, most common in exciting or life-threatening situations.

Michael's countenance gradually changed once facing his opening opponent. When the first ball was served, everyone besides myself took an audible breath.

"You swing like a little girl!" Michael chastised, glaring at the crowd. "What was that? You think you can survive tennis with that arm? You won't even survive life!"

I smiled, but from the corner of my eye, I caught Lu worrying her lip.

"What...What is his problem?" She asked.

I tried to keep the smile from my face as I turned to her. "Michael has a domineering association with a racket, effective when he holds one."

She blanked. "A what?"

"He feels more secure with a racket. Albeit, more dangerous. Good luck," I threw in for good measure.

I knew when she became nervous,after the third opponent left bruised and nearly crying in pain. Lu started hopping from one foot to the other, a sound I'd groaned accustomed to after living with her for so long. It was another nervous tick she had, present when facing somethibg particularly scary she was struggling not to run away from.

In spite of myself, I smiled. For some reason, the sounds of her unease was reassuring.

When I was called, I could almost feel the tension radiating from the tennis leader. He flashed me a wicked smile, twirling his racket around in an attempt to intimidate.

It didn't work.

When he began serving, equations rifled through my head. Numbers appeared around the ball, the force applied to his racket, the curve as it flew upwards. Trajectory, speed, I took them into account almost robotically as the ball hurdled towards me, meeting my racket with near flawless precision. It returned to the opposite court, and bounded out of Michael's reach.

My point.

If the man ever regretted asking me into his club, it was now. Fumes seemed to billow from his ears, face going a brilliant red. Red was never a good color with blonde hair. It looked better on brunettes.

He was barely able to muster up a "good job. I shouldn't have gone easy on you," and I scoffed at the arrogance, but nodded appreciatevly nonetheless.

"Lewis Moor!"

There was a marginal fraction of me that felt guilty, but I wasn't about to step in and make that known. Instead, I cast her a demeaning smile as she passed, her gaze narrowing at me.

Her dark hair swung back in a high ponytail, confidence etched as a scowl on her features. It was harder to hold back my

retort; for someone who knew they were about to be pummeled, she obviously didn't show it.

"Hold on," she said, putting her hand in a T for time out and dropping her racket in the process. It clattered to the ground. "Are there rules like no aiming for the face?"

"Just aim over the net," Michael snapped, his annoyance piquing.

Lu bit her lip again but swiped up her racket and fell into a poor crouch. "Is there a particular way I should stand?"

Michael groaned. "I don't care. Just stand straight, doesn't matter."

Lu nodded and resumed her position. "But what if-"

"No more questions!" Michel screamed, cutting Lu off. She barely had enough time to raise her racket before Michael served the ball,the sphere rotating forcefully through the air, like an arrow seeking its target.

I knew pretty quickly where it would hit. Maybe Lu's word had caused Michael to subconsciously take aim there, but sure enough, like a domino effect, the ball hit the racket, which hit Lu squarely in the face.

The momentum knocked her off her feet and she staggered back,dropping her racket yet again. She clutched her hands around her nose, blood spurting in a steady river and dripping from her chin.

I wasn't laughing anymore.

"And that is why you don't use your racket to shield your face!" Michael critisized.

"That's a lot of blood," someone mumbled beside me and I couldn't disagree as Lu tried in vain to staunch the bleeding.

That wasn't going to work. Instinctively, I walked over to her and caught her wrist in my hand. Her eyes widened slightly, until I could see the full perimeter of her brown irises. Then I was dragging her away.

"Where are you going?" Michael shouted after me. "Its just a little blood."

"That guy makes LaCross look like a tea party," Lu muttered, her hand muffling the words. I didn't say anything as I walked her back to the brick complex and into the bathroom inside it. I wedged a stopper under the door so she wouldn't get any ideas.

She just watched me warily, blood still dribbling through her fingers. The sight was almost comical.

"Lean your head back," I snapped, caught off guard by the edge in my voice. It jolted her as well before she complied. I went over to the paper towel dispenser and wadded up a few. Then wetter it and came over to her.

"Sit," I said, feeling as if I were telling a dog what to do. She smirked at that but obliged on the bathroom counter. I swatted her hand away and pressed it to her nose. She let out a yelp-kind of like aforementioned dog- still casting me glances when she thought I couldn't see.

"Isn't this a bit too gruesome for you?" She asked after a minute. I wasn't looking her, training my focus solely on stopping the blood flow. She'd gotten hit hard.

"I believe this is a testament to why you shouldn't have joined." I said, grabbing a new cluster of paper towels.

She glowered at that and, seeing an opportunity,I took it. "But I guess you couldn't resist if I'd signed up."

Her glower rose a few degrees, until I had to bite the inside of my cheek from revealing my amusement.

"Fine," she said, defeated. I met her gaze, surprised. "Yeah, you were the reason I joined. But I'm paying my dues. This is clearly a sport that chooses you, not the other way around."

"Are you going to quit?" I asked. I had a feeling I knew the answer because though Lu wasn't predictable, she was unpredictably predictable. I just had to take probability into account and pick the option that held the slightest chance.

She shook her head, causing me to lose my place with the napkins. "No," she said. "And not because of you. But because even I have self respect. Not pride, lost that long ago,but self respect. And if I walk away from that with nothing but this," she gestured to her nose, "to show for it, that'd be shameful."

"Really?" I asked. "I'm surprised you still have the capacity to feel shame. I'd assume it customary of you by now."

Her glare slid smoothly back onto her face. "I don't miss that," Lu said.

I cocked an eyebrow. "You don't miss what?"

"That. William Trenger's insults. Or as I've dubbed them, WTI. But contrary to what you might think, insults are not very motivational. In fact, Its been nearly three weeks since I've been insulted. Three glorious weeks of positivity, that has now been squashed by you. Whatever," she shook her head again and I sent her a stern look. "Maybe after this you can go kill squirrels for fun."

Annoyance seared through me, hot and thick like that bourbon my dad had offered for me to try. "Its your own fault," I replied, tone devoid of anything feeling. "You exposed yourself to it voluntarily when you decided to join a club I was a part of."

"Well that reason is no longer feasible, " Lu replied, raising her head. I pushed it back down. "Now I choose to stay to serve one ball. That's my goal. One ball and minimal blood. I think that's not too unreachable."

"For you, it is."

"Says the genius who took a girl into the women's bathroom."

"Its the men's."

"What?" She snapped her head back up,glancing around the small room lined with urinals. "Great," she stuttered after a moment, leaning her head back again. "That's just great."

"Quit moving," I ordered, taking her jaw stiffly in my hand and holding it in place. The gesture took her by surprise and she flinched back, slamming her head into the mirror.

"Ow."

I sighed, steeling the irritation from my voice. "It's a wonder how you've survived seventeen years of life."

"It's a wonder how everyone wants to be around you when you're five floors down and a bullet train from likeable."

I gave her a derisory smile. "I'd suppose they'd just have to ask you."

She had no comeback for that one, but did scorn me, like a child trying to intimidate a parent.

The blood seemed to finally have stopped and I started throwing the paper towels away, wads of crimson falling into a bin.

"Why are you...doing this anyway?" She asked cautiously, peeking around the proverbial bush rather than beating it down in her usual destructive methods. But to my dismay, I didn't really have an answer. I actually found my mind going blank, a rare sensation that never failed to make me uncomfortable.

"Mom," I settled on, her face appearing in my mind at the thought of Lu. "She'd punish me severely if she found out about this, and then give me the third degree. So I'm doing myself a favor."

Lu's disappointment was evident. "Aww," she drawled, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. "I'm so touched. You, Will," she pointed at me, "are a selfless person."

I rolled my eyes and shoved my hands deep in the recesses of my pockets. "Lets just hope you can get through the rest of the day without anymore bloodshed."

She smirked, "I thought you said that was an unreachable task for me."

I shot her a glare. "Hope was the operative word. That doesn't mean I actually believe it."

Lu jumped off the counter and headed for the door, two pieces of tissue stuffed her nose. "You are just full of compliments today," she mumbled but stopped ? on front of me. "But thank you. Even if you did only help me with ulterior motives. But I like your mom. I wouldn't want her to worry."

"This is you we're talking about," I replied, once out of the bathroom. "Of course she'll worry."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Okay, so I decided to keep this primarily Lu's perspective, with the occasional Will POV. It's like the drama that way, because there's rare moments of "insight" into the guy's character, so I think I'll do it that way. Again, sorry it took longer to update. But I do plan to finish this; I've missed writing these characters. I love writing Lu's perspective because I base a lot of my own randomness off her. Please review! They help the motivation. :)**

I didn't think that Will could get anymore confusing. Unsurprisingly, I had been wrong.

Ever since the bloody nose incident, Will seemed dead set on ignoring my very existence. He was as ambivalent as ever, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want to be near him myself, however cryptic he was.

But standing in the middle of the tennis court picking up balls and watching him practicing with Stacey was as close as I'd gotten in days, and I didn't much care for the view.

While he passed her the ball, she was making a whole other kind of pass; the way she deliberately flashed him the willowy curves of her body, all perfect posture and flawless skin. Her shorts were one inch away to being undergarments and her tank top clung to every part of her form. It wasn't deliberately provocative, but it was a far cry from modest. And discouraging for me, to say the least.

"Great shot, Will!" she beamed at him, tossing her hips as she went to reclaim the ball. I grimaced. But then her eyes settled on me and she pointed to where it had gotten to.

My grimace deepened.

"Don't worry," I told her with a self-deprecating shrug. "I got it." That was my job, after all, since I'd been demoted from team member to team janitor. I gave her a fake smile as I stood from my crouch. But my legs revolted and I settled for crawling to the next scatter of balls on my hands and knees.

I'd just reached them when one ball flew out of nowhere and clocked me in the shin.

"Sorry!" Stacy called, twirling her racket like a baton and shooting me a grin.

It took all my willpower not to glare at her. "It's okay," I mumbled, before snatching up the ball. "It's not like I can feel pain or anything."

How I wished that were the case. But seeing Stacy so close to Will made something hot and painful blossom in my chest. Sure, a little competition never hurt anyone. It was healthy even, by spurring motivation. But this drastically reduced mine because the word "competition" implied I had a shot.

Which I didn't.

Stacy was one of those ridiculously overpriced Barbies while I was a cabbage patch kid on sale. While Stacy was all curves, I was edges. It wasn't one of those situations where puberty just hadn't hit me yet. I'd just missed the train to apparently. Or, at best, it simply hadn't taken me as far as others. I didn't look like some twelve year old, but I didn't look like Stacy either and I didn't compensate in brains for what I lacked in physical appeal.

There was no appeal. I had a better chance of winning the lottery, or being struck by lightning forty seven times than ending up with Will.

This kind of realization swam through my head on repeat, which, unfortunately for myself, depleted my positive attitude for the day. Instead of trying to get Will's attention, I roamed about the tennis court collecting balls while my legs continued their cries of agony. My skin had turned red from the sun and to top it off, I didn't go without the frequent ball to the arm, back, and occasionally, the face.

All in all, by the time tennis practice was over, I was in a pretty dire mood. And that left zero room for improvement when someone touched me on the arm, effectively scaring me half to death.

I jumped and dropped the basket I'd been carrying. Balls went everywhere, scattering across the gated court and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.

I whirled on the person, expecting it to be Michael. But to my momentary surprise, it was someone I didn't know. I frowned at the strange guy who stood before me. Dark brown hair curled into molten, amber eyes, the color of honey. A constellation of freckles decorated his face and a smile played around his full lips.

He was staring down at me, a good few inches taller and though he was broad-shouldered, he was lanky. But even I wasn't stupid enough to see that he wasn't attractive.

I became instantly suspicious. "Uh...yes?" I asked, dubious.

The guy extended me his hand. "I'm Ian," he said, his smile growing. "Ian Hawk. I'm in your Economics class. I've seen you a few times in the cafeteria but," he shrugged. "You always seemed busy."

My suspicion instantly piqued because I was never busy at lunch. I spent the hour sitting alone.

I tried again. "Can I, um...help you with something?"

"Actually..." Ian quirked an eyebrow at me and whatever nervous demeanor he'd seemed to have held a second go melted into an almost overbearing confidence. "I kind of...noticed you on the first day. You, uh, stood out."

This would've been a compliment if, on day one, I hand't been wearing that hideous red outfit. But I still murmured, "Thanks," taking it as one.

"I would like to get to know you," he added, almost hastily.

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. "Did someone pay you to say that?" I asked, craning my neck to glimpse the prankster behind it. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The guy showed me his hands. "Nope. Why? You don't get hit on a lot?"

"I get hit on, but usually not guys. Usually by balls." My face instantly gave way to horror at how bad that sounded and I quickly shook my head. "Tennis balls, I mean. Let me do that again." I shook his hand. "Hi, I'm Lu."

His smile turned into a grin. "I knew what you meant. I'm sorry, by the way. About the..." he gestured to the mess. "Let me help you."

I felt inclined to reject the offer but the bruises on my legs spoke volumes on their own and I found myself nodding.

Most of the tennis members were already leaving, trickling out of the gate and instinctively, I cast a glance at Will. But he was already watching me.

* * *

"Lu, it would seem you have an admirer," Stacy chimed to me in the Tennis Club's lodge, retrieving her bag and racket cover.

My gaze automatically went to Will, searching for some kind of reaction that indicated this bothered him. He seemed unperturbed though, as he snatched up his own bag.

I looked back to Stacy. "I don't know why I would," I answered honestly.

Stacy puckered her lips in pity, the action condescending. "Aw, come on. You're cute. In an annoying sort of way."

I smirked. "Thanks. That was almost a compliment."

"Hey, Will!" She suddenly called, twirling away to look at him. He glanced up.

"Don't you think it's sweet that someone has a little crush on Lu?"

I gawked at her, hoping to send her some silent message with my eyes to stop talking. But then it struck me that this was my chance. My opportunity. The jealousy test was the oldest game in the book, but that didn't make it any less effective.

I sighed, making it sound breathy. "He must like me for my wit," I said, amping up the dreamy tone.

"I'd have to agree," Will said. "After brains and looks, there's not much left to choose from."

Ouch. I crossed my arms defiantly. "A guy could like me," I said, and this time, I actually believed it myself. "I have good traits."

Will tossed his bag over his shoulder, his intense gaze meeting mine. "Really? Like what?"

I puffed out my chest. "I...am nice. And loyal. And... I'm passionate about the things I love. Which is more than I can say for you. That's the burden of being good at everything. You have no goal to try for."

Maybe it was a spiteful thing to say, but that didn't make it any less true. William Trenger was good at everything. Which made him desire nothing, because it took no effort for him to get it.

Will glowered at me, and I saw the muscle in his jaw working. But he didn't deny it.

"I feel bad for those that put in so much effort just to fail," Stacy breathed. Maybe it was just me, but there seemed to be a double message in her words. "After all," she continued. "What's the point in trying so hard if you already know you're never going to get what you want?" Her eyes flickered to Will.

I clenched my hands at the anger that spiked in my chest. "Some people try hard because they don't want to just walk away," I told her. "Because then, for the rest of their life, they'll always have that what-if hanging over their heads. And it's better to give it your all and lose, than give nothing out of fear of failure."

Stacy licked her lips and sent me an artificial smile. "Good luck with that, then. But," she shrugged. "You looked good with that guy. He's a bit nerdy for my taste, but you and him make a cute couple. You should give him a try."

 _Give him a try._ I'd spoken with the guy for a half hour and already I was being paired with him like some kind of game. Which shouldn't have been a surprise to me; Stacy loved her games.

I drew in a deep breath and nodded. Against my better judgement, my gaze found Will's. "Maybe I should," I mumbled.

* * *

Things didn't get much better. As more days passed, I wasn't promoted to a member that was actually allowed to hold a racket. On the contrary, Michael had verbally banned me from every racket in the lodge. I wasn't authorized to touch any, and if he caught me looking at one for too long, would send me a a warning look.

The only thing that really progressed were the bruises on my legs and the pain in my joints. I was tired, annoyed, and overall depressed. On some days, that guy-Ian-would help me pick up the balls which was appreciated. He'd even attempted to teach me how to juggle, which resulted in me accidentally hitting Stacy with a ball. Not that I felt too guilty over it.

She had it coming.

Will still ignored me. But every now and then I'd look across at him, only to catch his green eyes already on me. But then he'd just point to a ball I missed and I'd shoot him a glare and look away. But the day I finally considered dropping tennis, was the day something different actually happened.

I was just putting away my basket in the lodge, careful not to accidentally touch a racket, when Michael shouted for everyone's attention.

Will was in his usual chair and Stacy sat on the armrest. The others were lounging around, but all eyes drew to Michael's, who now stood in the center of the room. "I have an announcement!" he shouted.

"He's announcing an announcement," someone whispered and I snickered. But then Michael's eyes found mine and I stopped.

"The announcement is," he started, keeping his gaze on me. "That we have a tournament coming up. It's next month, but in order to get you guys in prime condition, we'll be having a little getaway."

The atmosphere seemed to grow tense.

"Where?" another person asked.

Michael smiled. "There's a cabin resort in Jackson, so I thought it would be a good idea to get in some practice at their courts this weekend."

A cacophony of exciting tittering broke out and I felt a bit of excitement towards the idea myself. Long drive. In the same car as Will. No Bach or Beethoven playing on the radio...

"I'm not going," Will said, shattering my lovely image.

Michael looked at him. "But..."

"You said I only had to be present for tournaments," he stated. "Not recreational practices."

"That's true, but..."

"But are you going against your word?"

Michael rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, like a scolded child who had just been proven wrong. "No. But some Scouts are there frequently and I don't want to show up with members like Lu."

I glared at him. "Hey!"

"You know I'm right."

Yeah, I did. But still.

Will, however, looked unfazed. "That's your own fault."

I tried to give Michael a reassuring smile, dismissing his insult. "You don't need him that much," I said. "You have plenty of other good players here." _Like Stacy,_ I thought begrudgingly.

This had no effect on Michael.

"I could practice, too," I proffered. "Just lend me a racket and I-"

"No!" Michael suddenly screamed, his voice echoing around the room. He came up to me and took me firmly by the shoulders. "Oh no. You aren't laying a finger on a racket! Better yet, there's no reason for you to even come." He steered me towards the door. "Go home, put some ice packs on those bruises. Rest up. We'll see you Monday!" he pushed me out of the room.

I looked back at him. "Wait-"

He slammed the door shut.

I stood there in hurt, my mouth gaping open. I rapped my knuckles loudly. "You can't do that, you know!" I called. "The rule book says-"

"Screw the rule book!" someone who wasn't Michael fired back.

I glowered at the door. "That's discrimination."

No one replied to me as I continued to stand there on the opposite side of the door, alone. After a minute, I pressed my ear up to the wooden surface of it, trying to hear what I could.

"Come on, Will!" Michael begged. "I'll give you a free pass on a tournament."

"No," he answered brusquely.

"How about a deal?"

"Not interested."

But Michael continued as if he hadn't heard him. "We'll have a match. Me and Stacy against you and...Lu," he said, and my mouth popped open again. "If you win, you don't have to come. But if we win, you have to join in on our escapade."

"Technically, I don't have to come, regardless," Will said, and I could practically see the impassive look on his face. "But even if I were to agree, that's hardly a fair pairing."

"You're the best player," Michael said and I caught the sound of envy mirrored in his words. "I think that's perfectly fair."

A sigh. "Fine," Will answered and I stared at the door in disbelief. "But if you win, you have to bring along Lu as well."

What, was this Spite Lu Day or something? I was about to shout out from my isolation when the door suddenly jerked open. "Ah, Lu!" Michael beamed in front of me. "So glad you could join us!" he ushered me inside.

"Join you?" I asked. "You kicked me out!"

Michael waved a hand dismissively. "Let bygones be bygones. So, did you hear our little deal?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, debating on whether to agree or not. "I don't get to go if Will wins. Yet, I'd be on his team," I pointed out. "Helping him win."

"You wouldn't be helping me," Will said.

I pursed my lips. He wasn't exactly wrong. But it had been nearly two weeks since I'd been in such close proximity to him and before I'd even thought it through, I was nodding. "Okay."

Michael raised his racket like a spear. "To the courts!"

* * *

It wasn't until Will and I stood opposing Stacy and Michael in the field that I was given a racket. It felt symbolic, as if it were some grand accord that I'd finally been entrusted enough to uphold. I marveled at the feel of it, glad that it wasn't the same racket that had been decorated in my blood.

I tried to twirl it like I'd watched Stacy do, but I lost my hold and it clattered to the ground.

"Knock it off," Michael called from the other side of the court. "Let's start! We don't have all day!"

That's exactly what we had, but I didn't bother to correct him. I grabbed a ball and bounced it on the ground. When it returned to me, it was swiped from the air, and I looked sideways, at Will.

"It's not your serve," he said.

"Oh."

"And you're standing too close to me."

I moved away from him and turned my attention back to Michael. He served the first ball, but the speed of it was blinding, the yellow blurring at the force of the hit. I shrieked, shielding my body with the racket as it bounded by me.

"What are you doing?" Will hissed at me. "You're supposed to hit the ball, not use the racket as a method of protection. Do you want another bloody nose?"

I flinched at the harshness in his tone but shook my head. "It's preferable over a concussion. I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to die for you to win this match."

He shook his head but returned his attention to our opponents. Another serve.

Automatically, I swept my racket out, but my hand was slick with sweat. I lost my grip and racket flew from my hand, careening through the air and landing with a loud smack.

It hadn't seemed to hurt anyone, but some members were covering their heads.

I quickly shuffled forward and retrieved my racket, miraculously unbent. Then I returned to Will, who was watching me in obvious distaste. He didn't looked shocked or even surprised, though, as I came up beside him.

"Just stand over there," he said, pointing at an area with his racket.

I took a step back. "Here?"

"Farther."

I faltered a few more steps.

"Farther."

Eight yards.

"Farther."

My back hit the gate.

"That's good."

I scowled. Michael served a third ball and this time, Will hit it. But racket or not, I didn't feel like an active participant, so I hung back, watching as the ball ricocheted back and forth. It didn't last very long and the match was over before it really started.

Michael wooped in victory, holding up a hand for Stacy to high-five which she promptly ignored.

I stood by Will, who was breathing heavily, face red from exertion and offered him a small smile. "Be careful this weekend, Will," I whispered, "Or you might catch yourself actually having fun."

He glowered at me, so intensely I could feel the heat of it on my face.

"Or maybe not," I added nervously.


	17. AN

**Sorry for the huge, monumental delay. Usually my updates coincide with however many followers/reviews I receive for a particular story, but I'm writing the next chapter to this, so STAY TUNED. :)**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**I am sorry. Honestly. It's been a while. But here is the next chapter. I also apologize if there are any grammar mistakes, but I didn't edit this because I figured you all had waited long enough. I've had some people mention they wanted more jealousy from Will, so I found a way to incorporate that. I'm starting to think Lu's personality is largely inspired by my own, and for those who have doubts, I'll support my claim with the story of me at a campus library. I was in the company of adults and a child, none of whom I knew, and pressed a video online, thinking Id listen to it quietly. But the volume was on full blast and instead of a quiet voice, what comes from the speakers is a guy exploding with expletives. And it took me a good few seconds to turn it off whilst everyone was staring at me. So yeah. Please review!**

"I do not feel particularly confident about this," I mumbled to myself, as I surveyed the bus before me, parked in the corner of the lot. It was one of those vintage Volkswagen vans, the trademark Hippie bus, thrust from the 70's to modern day. It was painted what must have once been a pretty turquoise but it had seen the sun a lot since then, and was now reduced to a dreary, chipped hue. The windows were grubby and I was fairly certain the tailpipe was dragging.

Overall, its condition concerned me.

If Michael partook in my worries, he didn't show them. In fact, he seemed infatuated with the ancient vehicle, patting its metal hide as if it were a pet. The faded blue of the paint clashed painfully against his plaid shorts, making the whole image out to be some messed up version of Independence Day colors. The shaded hippie glasses sitting nestled atop his head were not helping matters.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to escape the image of both. As if reading my mind, when I reopened my eyes, I found Michael's narrowed at me. "Do you have an issue with the transportation?"

I bit my lip. "No, uh. But are you sure it's . . .you know, safe?"

"It's Bessy," he replied, expression serious. He jerked his head towards the vehicle. "If you're gonna speak about her, do it with some ounce of respect or I might just decide her unable to carry your additional weight."

"Over thirty years old with a broken tailpipe and I'm the problem?" I muttered under my breath. I cast a grimace at Michael and a glance at Will, who arrived only a few minutes before me and was now piling his bag in the back. That poor tailpipe was really in for it today.

"So," I began, making a possibly harrowing decision by attempting to goad conversation with two of the most antisocial beings I'd ever met. I swapped glances between the genius and the tennis leader, every part of me wanting to speak with the former while simultaneously wishing to avoid any residual anger he might have at our losing the game.

So naturally, I turned to the person whose opinion mattered to me the least. "Since I'm coming, does this mean I get to hold a racke-"

"No!" burst Michael, effectively scaring me. He shook his head fiercely, so hard in fact, I was sure he would shake out his dirty blonde curls to limp points. "The agreement was that you get to come. No one specified that you get to hold a racket."

"But it's a tennis retreat!" I argued. "It's pretty well implied."

"Too bad, Nosebleed Girl." He shrugged. "I can't have a potential hazard holding a racket."

I glowered at the nickname, and resisted the self-conscious urge to touch my nose. That incident had been nearly a week ago, but that didn't make the memories any fonder. "You were the one who threw that ball."

"What, did you expect me to roll it to you?" His brows shot up. "I believe you have your sports mistaken."

I glowered harder, but unfortunately that didn't earn me anything more than strained eyelids, so I returned my gaze to the van, wishing I'd packed lighter for its benefit. Slowly, I shuffled over to the back just as Will turned and passed by me, his short-sleeved arm brushing mine. I internally scolded my skin for prickling and my heart for starting its usual acrobatics in my chest.

I hurriedly stuffed my bag atop Will's, trying not to look at it for too long as I backed a way. Even the interior of the van smelled old. And vaguely like peaches, but I didn't want to question that.

"Will!"

I felt a substantial amount of my energy, along with my positive mood, drain from me at the sound of Stacy's voice, all bubbles and rainbows and estrogen. I suddenly wished I could crawl into the back of the van with the luggage if it meant not watching her doe-eyes looking at him. Or worse, his usual uninterested eyes looking at her. Perhaps I didn't think this through.

 _Don't be intimidated, Lu,_ I encouraged myself, and even buffed out my chest and clenched my fists, drawing in whatever strength a lung-bursting inhale could reap. Seemed counterproductive, but I did it anyway.

Then I loped back to where the others were, careful to be close to Will and Stacy but not _too_ close. Not too covert to be overt. I was even dignified enough to give Stacy a wave and a smile, while also trying not to let her little sky-blue outfit and perfect pale hair utterly demolish my self-esteem.

 _Totally not intimidated._

"Hi, Lu!" She greeted me, matching my mediocre smile with her dazzling, white-toothed grin that showed off a dimple. Hah. At least I had one of those for each cheek. "Glad you could join us," she said, but the way she said _us_ gave me the distinct impression she was not referring to the whole of the tennis club.

 _High road,_ I mentally chided. _Be the bigger person here. You can do it._

I nodded in agreement. "Me too."

"The others sure are taking their pretty little time," mumbled Michael with an exasperated sigh as he crossed his arms and leaned his back against Bessy. "What part of eight am don't they understand?"

"Hey, your face is looking better," Stacy suddenly remarked and it took me a second to understand what she meant and I couldn't help but think she could have chosen her words a little better. "Um, thanks." It was clear my nose was becoming the proverbial tailpipe in my life.

"Do you want to sit together, Will?" she asked, turning on him who, I had to admit, was looking very nice in his white tank and blue shorts. They were much deeper in color but it grated on me that they were both wearing something of the blue-variety. I instantly regretted my choice of boring grey.

I tried not looking interested in their conversation, averting my eyes, but keeping my ear targeted on them.

"I don't have much preference," said Will. "I was just going to read."

"Oh really? What?"

And just like that, the two of them were immersed in some book discussion that sounded about as enthusiastic as my grey shorts and I stood, now looking at them, feeling disappointment chase away what little hope I'd been clinging to that this weekend would be the weekend of change.

I blew out a long breath, trying very hard to stop any and all thoughts of Will. His arms around me as he pulled me from the pool. His face, so close to mine. His lips, soft and what I was beginning to believe the warmest part of him . . .

I felt my cheeks color and squeezed my eyes hard enough to send a display of red fireworks exploding behind my lids. No. I wouldn't think about that. Not here. Not while watching him talk to another girl, especially one that could earn a master's while working as a Victoria Secret model on the side. There was town Pathetic, and then there was downright emotional rock bottom. And I wasn't there. I was close, most certainly, but I wasn't there _yet_.

I plastered what I hoped was an easy smile to my face, burning holes into Bessy's side as the rest of the tennis club arrived and piled their luggage into the van. Few others shared my concerns in its capabilities, which I wasn't sure reassured or further worried me.

Will and Stacy both ducked into the van, _together_ , and I felt my shoulders stoop. If I had less respect for myself, perhaps I would've called out a blonde joke. But I wasn't the spiteful type and watched from this side as they settled by the window. In front of me. I felt a glare coming on.

That's when someone tapped me on the shoulder, snapping me out of my reverie and I twisted around, only to find myself greeted by a familiar tanned face, curly dark hair twisted into honey eyes. "Hey, stranger," he said.

My eyebrows shot up. "Ian? What're you doing here?"

He smiled and twisted a covered racket in his left hand that I felt abruptly idiotic for somehow missing. _Insert_ duh _here._

"I joined the tennis club," he announced.

My eyes widened in shock.

He paused. "What?"

"Are you a masochist or something?" I whispered, casting a furtive glance towards Michael, as if he could overhear my words.

Ian's smile broadened and I could smell his aftershave, some mix of pine and mint. "I'm a pacifist."

I shook my head, so hard I got a crick in my neck. "Then you should _seriously_ get out while you have the chance. There's already been bloodshed."

Ian cocked his head and raised a brow at me. "If it's so harrowing, what's keeping you here?" He eyed the bruises decorating my legs, a good half dozen purple blossoms expanding from shin to kneecap. And higher, but thanks to clothing, no one could see those.

"Self-respect," I answered. _That is getting smaller and smaller by the second._ "Ish," I added, with a leveled shake of my hand. "I know what I'm doing," I added, as if it would help my case.

That grin of his didn't drop and he bopped his shoulder against mine. "I'm feeling doubtful. Why? Don't want me on the team?"

I quickly waved my hands and gave a noncommittal _pfft_. "No, it's just Michael can be kind of . . ." I pitched my voice lower, "brutal, and I wouldn't want you to get involved without fully understanding the ramifications. Like pain and a considerable amount of fear."

If this worried him, he didn't show it. Instead, Ian's grin widened enough to display those rows of white teeth. "Your skills at dissuasion are pretty bad. Now I'm only intrigued all the more."

I groaned. "You really want to do this?" I asked, as he marched over to the bus at Michael's bellow to get in now before he drove off without us. "I mean, you could get hit in the face with a ball. It's happened. To people."

"I'll duck."

I was about to shake my head again, when I felt the light bulb in the attic turn on. I liked to think I was above jealousy provocation, but I was starting to learn how scary desperation could be. And hormones. And feelings. It created a concoction that was tantamount to a nuclear bomb, one with only a single, potential casualty.

Fine. So maybe I was a masochist.

I looked back towards the window, surprised to find green eyes beyond the grubby glass resting on me. Then Will turned away, back to Stacy. Ian motioned me to go first.

Before clamoring inside, I eyed Bessy's tailpipe as if it were the meter to my own fate. It belched smoke and sputtered as the engine roared to life.

Perhaps I was wrong, and this was emotional rock bottom.

* * *

I was starting to lose it around hour two. Shoved in the tight quarters of Bessy and sitting next to Ian, I practically had a full-sized view of Stacy's attempts at gauging Will's interest directly across from me. Throw in the detail of her leg touching his and the occasional triumphant look she cast over, my nails that dug into the seat were about to split the dingy fabric.

I felt like I was at some museum with Will and Stacy as the exhibit and the sign Do Not Touch embellished on the glass. Lean any closer, and I'd set off the alarms.

I mentally kicked myself. I should've just stayed home. My gamut of what-if scenarios would've been easier to face than witnessing the real thing. Of course, those scenarios included a shirtless Will returning Stacy's interest, which he didn't seem to currently be doing. His shirt was very much on, but her close proximity was right on target. All in all, I was finding the high road a very difficult one to travel.

"You okay?" Ian asked from beside me, brown eyes curious. "You look depressed."

Okay, so maybe I wasn't traveling it as well as I'd thought.

I tried for a smile, but it felt flat. "Oh, I'm peachy," I said, as upbeat as I could muster. "It's just the drive. Long car rides are boring." Actually, that was a total lie. I loved long car rides. The talks and jokes and the snacking that went along with them. _Without_ Bach and Lucas's occasional insult to my wiring. No, it was _this_ car ride I wasn't exactly fond of.

Ian smirked conspiratorially. "Well then you haven't been doing them right. Here." He reached down and pulled something out of his pocket. His phone, I realized, as he retrieved a pair of red earbuds with it. He extended the left piece to me. "Put it in."

"Why?"

"Ever heard of a game called Name That?"

Shaking my head while trying to put in an ear device, I found, was not very proactive. "Can't say that I have."

"It's like Trivia, but with sound."

I felt the grimace on my face and gave him an _are you serious?_ look. "You're talking to someone whose highest grade in History was a B." _Minus_ , I mentally added. _With_ _the tutelage of a certain malevolent genius included._

But Ian just grinned at me, unfazed. "It's not History, it's television. Do you own a television, Lu?"

I nearly nodded before remembering not to. "Yeah."

He patted my kneecap. "Then you'll do just fine."

 _Name That,_ I found out shortly after, was indeed what Ian claimed it to be. Once the overly enthusiastic intro as to _Name That_ came over the speaker, a more robotic voice took its place and began asking a series of questions, followed by the clip to some television show or movie.

I sat, fidgety and a little apprehensive as the first question registered in my ear. _"Name That voice."_ And, a second later, the voice in my ear: _"Ruh-roh!"_

I frowned at the seemingly obvious answer. "That's Scooby, isn't it?" I asked, looking over at Ian for confirmation.

He smiled and shook his head. "Astro, from the Jetsons."

I scoffed in disbelief, but didn't pull out the ear piece. So not as easy as I was led to believe. But I wasn't about to claim defeat. I sucked at history but TV spoke the language of drama I understood.

 _"Name That show."_

I waited.

 _"We were on a b-"_

"Oh, Friends!" I chimed instantly, smirking sideways at Ian. "That's from Friends. And they _were_ on a break."

"One of the most controversial topics of our time," he agreed.

 _"Name That character: . . . 'Captain, you almost made me believe in luck.'"_

"Star Wars!" I almost shouted.

Ian shook his head, pursing his lips as if trying not to smile. "No, it's from Star _Trek_."

"Nuh-uh."

Ian nodded, disrupting the mound of brown curls. One fell low over his forehead and he promptly brushed it back. "There's no Vulcan in Star Wars."

I frowned. "What's a Vulcan?"

He gaped at me in mock horror. "Your lack of intergalactic knowledge pains me, Lu."

"I'm sorry?"

"We'll fix it later," he reassured me, as we waited for the next question.

 _"Name that character: . . . 'Would you believe'-_

"Get Smart!" Now I _was_ screaming, the excitement bursting like a can of shaken soda.

"It's 86," Ian corrected, looking like he was trying hard not to laugh. "They asked for the _character_."

"Oh, whatever. Keep it going." I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.

 _"Name That film: . . . "_ _Sometimes the curiosity can kill the soul but leave the pain._

"Oh! Uh . . . Uh . . ." I slapped my hand eagerly against my legs, scrounging for the title. "Um"-

"Alice in Wonderland," said Ian, grinning.

I paused. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

"Wow. That film is deep. In more ways than one," I added slowly, realizing my pun. It was dorky, but at least I made myself laugh.

 _Name that character: . . . "Family is"-_

"The Godfather!" I shouted.

Ian raised his brows at me and nodded approvingly. "I'm actually impressed. You got that right off the bat."

"Well he mentioned family. Why wouldn't I think Italian mafia?"

"And you're a fan of the Godfather?"

I patted his shoulder. "I am not always the open book people assume me to be," I said ominously, and tapped my temple. "Sometimes they overlook a chapter."

 _"Name that film:. . . 'You've always had the power, my dear.'"_

"Wizard of Oz," said Ian, almost over the voice in my ear. He shook his head. "Too obvious."

"I wouldn't know, I've never seen Wizard of Oz."

Ian's eyes widened and he blinked at me. _"You've never seen the Wizard of Oz?"_

"Who do people always make that such a big deal?" I asked, for every time I admitted to never having seen the movie, I always got the same reaction. It was as if I'd committed some grand atrocity against my childhood by not watching a film about a girl who get's swallowed by a tornado. "I know what it's about, at least."

"What's it about then?"

I recalled the dregs of the story I'd heard. "Well, I know it involves red shoes, a dead witch, a lying non-wizard, and quite possibly an ample amount of narcotics."

Ian looked like he was about to argue, but then shrugged. "Pretty accurate summary, actually."

 _"Name That film:. . . 'Chewy, we're home.'"_

"Star Trek!" I shrieked.

"It's Star _Wars_."

I eyed his phone distastefully. "They totally did that on purpose, didn't they?"

Ian's answer was a gruff laugh he tried to hide behind a not-so-offhand cough.

 _"Name That character:. . . 'Master should be resting. Master needs-"_

"Oh! Oh! That . . ." I snapped my fingers. "That demented dwarf! With the ring!" I exclaimed.

Ian shifted towards me, until he had enough room to stare at me pointedly. "That _demented dwarf_?" he asked in disbelief. "It's Gollum. And he was a Hobbit. Haven't you ever seen Lord of the Rings?"

I shrugged casually. "No, but I've read Harry Potter so if you think about it, that description's actually pretty close."

"Wait, how have you seen the Godfather but not the Lord of the Rings?" Ian questioned, that bewildered expression still on his face, completely dismissing my valid argument.

"Because I own one series on VHS while the other was never available on VHS because it's too new," I explained.

But this didn't seem to aid me much and Ian's expression grew amused. "You still own a VHS player?"

"Well I did, until a tree landed on my house and broke it."

He blinked at me with wide eyes. "You have an odd home life."

 _"Name That Film: . . . 'Baby Sister I was born game and I intend to"-_

"True Grit!" I burst, earning a few looks from the other tennis club members.

At my side, Ian shook his head. "You know your taste in films is a bit inconsistent, right?"

"I prefer the term 'varied.'" What I didn't say was being raised by only your father, one was less likely to watch films about princes and princesses and more likely to fall asleep to the sound of The Four Sons of Katie Elder. I even had a stuffed horse I'd called Ol' Dollar. But I wasn't about to admit to that.

 _"Name That voice: . . . 'Now, run for your life.'"_

"The Doctor!" Ian and I shouted at the same time. He looked at me in quiet surprise, dark brows arched high. "I was starting to think you didn't like shows about space."

I tried a nondescript wink, but I couldn't wink without looking like something was caught in my eye. " _Varied_ ," I repeated.

 _"Name That Song: 'I swear, . . . it's the truth"-_

"Dirty Dancing!" I screeched, nearly jumping from my seat, and then deepened my voice as low as I could manage in my best Patrick Swayze impression. I prodded Ian in the chest. "No one puts Baby in a corner."

"Would you two shut up?" Will suddenly snapped across from us, glowering in my direction, his green eyes burning dark. The abrupt display of hostility made me flinch and I stared at him blankly for a moment, marginally confused. It usually took a lot to make Will mad. Even more to hear it in his voice.

Great. We weren't even there yet and already Will was glaring at me. So, in the heat of the moment, I actually let myself glare back.

"You could just ask nicely," I mumbled. "With manners. You know, those inconvenient things you like to shove way under the rug-"

"No one in this van can think with all he racket you're making," he barked.

I showed him my empty hands. "What racket? Last I checked, I was barred from having one!"

"Just keep it down," he snapped.

"We weren't the only ones making noise in the first place," I added defensively, taking in Michael's annoying banjo music coming from the trying stereo and a few other members playing Black Jack. Someone had brought a portable DVD player and now had on some foreign film I didn't understand, displaying an old guy with a bloody knife in the small confines of the screen.

"No," agreed Will, "You just have a talent for making the loudest."

"It was _my_ game," Ian piped up from beside me. He leaned forward. "I'm the one who started it. You have no right to get angry at her."

Will's glare turned on him and it almost seemed to rise a few degrees. "She was the one who was shouting," he replied flatly. "You weren't."

"Still, that doesn't mean you should"—

I held up my hands. "Okay," I interceded, speaking to both of them. Ian looked at me, and seemed to lose some of the tension that had been in his hands, gripped around his phone.

Will though, just looked heatedly bored as I turned to him. I didn't want to mess this up, and even though there was a part of me wanting to say exactly what I thought, I was only on this trip because of Will. That made me partially indebted, didn't it? "I apologize," I told him. "I'll use my inside voice for the remainder of the trip. Or try to," I added, before he could make any retort.

In my periphery, I saw Ian frown, a very uncharacteristic thing for him. "He doesn't have to ask you so rudely, though," he said.

I gave a noncommital wave of my hand. "You get used to it," I remarked flippantly.

Without giving myself time to dwell on the subtle surprise that appeared on Will's face at my words, I moved over to the other seat where the portable DVD player was and took a spot on the floor, content with trying to decipher what the guy holding the knife was going to do with it.

"Oh, but just for future reference," I added as an afterthought, looking back to Will once more. My voice turned slightly dejected. "It's not _van,_ it's Bessy."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**So. SO. SO sorry it took this long *fiddles nervously with fingers* I, uh, I'm in college. I'm taking condensed studies. I really didn't have time . . . But this one is a long chapter! It's long, Guys. For you! Please review :)**

 _What was I thinking?_

Those words were a chorus replaying in my head as the last hour of travel evaporated, our ascent into the mountains leveled out, and the cabins came into view. It was tranquil, if not a little solemn; Just over a sylvan slope the cabins were perched on I could make out the courts, tucked into a valley. It was cooler with the higher altitude and I could blame my excess sweat on nerves alone.

When we reached the lodge, everyone piled out of the van and waited beneath the oak porch, me sidled by Ian, Will sidles by Stacy. His mood was impossible to read, but I think he looked chagrined. The insecure part of me hoped it was his proximity to Stacy. In fact, the secure part of me hoped that, too.

Ian leaned toward me. "I didn't even know the tennis club had funds," he said, glancing appreciatively at the lodge. I had to admit; it was nice. Big and welcoming and distinctly cabin-y, with its architecture that reminded me of the Frontier Logs you played with as a child, only on a larger, sturdier scale. Thick cream drapes adorned the inside of the windows and as Michael disappeared inside, I glimpsed nice furnishing and colorful rugs. Clearly the club's funds were not handfuls of wish pennies.

"How are we able to afford this?" I asked, as if Ian would know. But he only looped his thumbs in his short pockets and shrugged. "Maybe Michael knows a guy."

"Who, Donald Trump?"

Ian grinned at me. Past his shoulder, I snagged Will's expression which looked uncharacteristically irate. It was often irate with me, yes, but I was not within his general vicinity, so he had little reason to be so now.

At that moment, Will caught me staring and I jerked back towards Michael. I rolled back on my heels as Michael strode from the lodge, three key cards clutched in his hand.

"Attention, Ladies," he said, addressing all of us, "I present to you two cabins; one for the girls and one for the boys." He distributed one card to Will and the other, to my dismay, to Stacy, as if we were back in high school picking team captains. I was never chosen for a team captain. Not even once.

"The third card," continued Michael smugly, "Is for me. This is my vacation, too. Courts are down that way." He pointed to our right. "Cabins to the left. Create a buddy system if you want, but your lives are one third over, so if you can't find your way around by this point, it's doubtful you ever will." Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought his eyes flashed to me at that last part.

He smiled broadly at us as he slid his glasses from his head back onto his nose. "Are you ready for a weekend of tennis and tears?"

The response fell just short of enthusiastic.

Ian bopped me on the shoulder and flashed me another grin. I wondered if his cheeks ever got sore from doing that. I wondered if Will's ever got sore from frowning so much. "Guess I'll see you later," said Ian, and I returned the smile with a wave that felt somewhat dorky. My hand fell a little when my eyes skittered back to Will, whose lips were set in a thin line.

Was he still mad about what had happened in the van? That seemed a bit excessive, even to me. Will was not really the type to hold a grudge. He was the type to yell and insult, sure, but he didn't hold on to his anger any longer than necessary. Part of me considered apologizing, but I already had, so what, exactly, was wrong?

My foot inched forward, as if it planned to drag the rest of me over to talk with him, but it was interrupted by Stacy, who leaned into Will.

My foot froze. _Everything_ froze. And for one terrible, awful, hideous moment, I thought she was going to kiss him. That Stacy Saltzman was about to put her lined lips on the same ones _I_ had kissed. Or, technically, the ones that had kissed _me_.

The idea of it flashed through my mind, and before I could register the fact that she wasn't kissing him-merely whispering into his ear-I did a stupid thing.

I sort of screamed.

I didn't know how, or even why, but suddenly my pitched cry was echoing over the lot.

All eyes snapped to me, including Will's. It did not help that I was still staring at him and I tried to look away, towards anything else, but it was very deer-in-the-headlights and I found my gaze was fastened to his. Besides, he already knew I was staring. I knew it. Those who were looking at me now knew it, too.

Slowly, Michael pulled down his glasses just enough to look pointedly at me. "Problem, Lewis?"

I swallowed. Or tried to. I wound up choking a bit on my own saliva. I shook my head. "Um, no. I'm-fine. I-uh . . . thought there was a bee."

He tilted his head. "On Will's shoulder?"

My cheeks flamed and I prayed no one could see it. I curled a hair around my finger nervously, flinching when I yanked a strand out. "Yeah. A bee," I said, refusing to let myself glance at Stacy. "A _very_ big bee."

Michael rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated puff of air. "You are too reactive. How fortunate of you to have not been holding a racket, or I suppose it likely you would have beaten the poor man with it."

I opened my mouth to protest, such as how I would certainly _not_ have beaten Will with a racket, but Michael had already replaced his glasses and turned around, starting off toward his private cabin like a king approaching his castle.

I watched him go-it was easier than facing a particular set of green eyes. Only when I was forced to follow the band of departing girls did I drop my gaze to the ground and keep them there, until the lot changed from asphalt to a dirt path and I was blessedly free.

For now.

* * *

The cabin smelled of lavender. Pungent lavender, the sort that dug into your nose and beat its poor receptors to a pulp. Or at least, I thought it was the cabin, until I spotted one of the girls whose name I was certain rhymed with _cookie_ spritzing her pillow with a small perfume bottle.

I blinked at her while trying and failing to hide a cough behind my hand.

As for the actual cabin, it was nice. Unlike the lodge with its formal furnishings and white drapes, this place was decorated in distinctly cabin-y decorum; the coffee table and the kitchen table, including the bed posts in the four rooms provided, were made of wood. Captions of western films and naturalist encouragements adorned the walls, complete with a substantial amount of black bear figurines. Even the welcome sign was held by a bear. Also made of wood.

"How homey," said Stacy, and it was definitely petty of me to be annoyed at the tone of her voice. She didn't even have the decency to fake her sincerity. She used the real kind. I didn't know how she managed to elegantly waltz from the room, claim a bed, and emerge seemingly seconds later, hair slicked back into a perfect pony-tail, racket in hand. "See you down at the courts!" she called, but stopped at the door. Her blue eyes flickered to me. "It's nice to have you here with us, Lu," she said with a demure smile. "Be careful out there."

Then she was gone, hair swishing in her wake, hips knocking back and forth like a model's down the runway, and I could not help but think she lied about as well as I did.

* * *

As expected, Michael did not let me play. In fact, when I'd attempted to secretly grab a racket, he'd nearly knocked his glasses from his head in his haste to stop me. Then he'd lectured me on racket responsibility and how I was not there yet and I'd best stick to putting away the balls if I wished to keep my fingers attached to my hands. That had been hours ago. Now I lay lounged on the bed I was to share with Lavender Girl, body aching from all the places the club had accidentally targeted me. Bruises were already blooming against my thighs and forearms, and I was fairly certain I had one by my jaw, too.

Excellent.

I sighed heavily, watching the ceiling fan go round and round. The blades had wild scenes carved into them, a bear and an eagle, a buck and something that looked like a raccoon. I'd never seen a raccoon out here before. Perhaps they'd been misinformed.

 _" . . . . her and William Trenger! He is so . . . "_

I bolted upright and jerked my head to the open door so fast my collar bone cracked. I bounded off the bed and scurried to the door where I peeked out to find a dirty-blonde I knew as Julie Bowtski and my roommate-whose name continued to evade me for some unknown reason-standing in a cluster by the window, speaking in hushed whispers I only managed to snatch pieces of.

"I know, they left the courts together . . . Shh, over there! I see them!"

 _What?_

Like some over-caffeinated child, I darted back into my room and to the window, so fast I barely stopped myself from face-planting into its glass pane. Had I heard correctly? Stacy and Will were outside? Like a . . . date?

This day was _really_ starting to suck.

As quietly as I could, I hefted open the window and peered out. The area around the cabin was choked full of bushes and obscured most of my vision, so I tried to lean forward to see more clearly.

What were they doing, traversing the wilderness together like something out of a Disney film? That made Will the prince and Stacy some damsel in distress. But did anyone ever really notice that those damsels in distress were never actually _in_ distress? How could they be, what with their perfect princes and their singing forest creatures and their vocal chords of steel?

But what made this bad, monumentally bad, was that Stacy had somehow convinced Will to take a late night stroll through the forest in the first place. No, this was potentially a confirmation of my worst fears; Will and Stacy. Together. United in their intellect with me standing somewhere on the sidelines, in the company of air. I just knew my nightmares would be consumed of tree trunks engraved with the initials _W. T. + S.S_ from this day forth.

I shook my head vehemently, and craned my neck out farther, gripping the sill with white fingers. Oh, this most definitely seemed to be the weekend of change, but not the kind I'd had in mind.

 _There._

Julie and Lavender Girl had been right.

Nestled between a couple of shrubs, I could make out the silhouette of two people standing side by side, outlined in silver. Oh, it really was Disney. Add some water, a boat, take away Stacy's voice and boom. _Sha la la la, kiss the girl._

In that moment, watching the two stand together in the shadows, I suddenly had the overwhelming desire to disappear. Or die. Or implode, which would inevitably conclude in the same result: my demise.

Fortunately for me though, I just lost my hold on the sill and toppled out of the window.

 _'Quiet'_ was not in my life dictionary, proven by the loud crash that followed as I landed in the bushes. Pain erupted over my leg and twigs dug into my arms and legs, tearing free the first layer of skin. An involuntary yelp escaped me.

Whoever thought it a bright idea to put thorn bushes below a window clearly never anticipated anyone to fall out of one.

Despite the wooden needles biting into my body, I clamped my lips shut, forcing myself to go still. Maybe the collision hadn't been that loud. Maybe no one heard it. Maybe Stacy and Will were too preoccupied continuing their frolicking and their tree graving to hear-

"Did . . . Did someone just _jump_ into those bushes?" A feminine voice chirped.

I ignored the urge to scoff. Please. What kind of idiot jumped into thorn bushes? Falling was another issue entirely.

I heard footsteps and didn't dare move. I barely even breathed, even when the footsteps stopped just outside the cluster of brambles. I ventured a peek, though it was dark. Randomly, I thought back to those critters out of aforementioned Disney films and I suddenly had a newfound respect for woodlen creatures.

And Brier Rabbit.

"Lu?"

I froze.

By this point, I should have been in the business of expecting some things to just snowball past the point of no return. Scratch that, I could run that business myself, because the moment I heard Will's unmistakably jaded tone, lit brightly with condescension, my first instinct was to clench my eyes shut again in an effort to make myself disappear. Maybe if I were lucky, Will would just walk away and think me some hurt bird. I certainly felt just as pitiful as one.

 _"Lu?"_ Came Stacey's voice, bewildered and incredulous. "Are you sure? I don't see anything."

Will though, seemed mighty confident and didn't even bother responding. "Lu, I know you're in there. come out."

 _Busted_. If I had one credible wish in this moment, it would be to have the powers of Genie. Or just a Genie, so I could wish myself away from here. Nice and far away. But I currently had no Genie, which meant no method of escaping this humiliation. Maybe I should've been used to it by now, but oh no, I was feeling very much red-faced when, from the confines of my thorny prison, I asked in a feeble voice, "How'd you know it was me?"

A quiet breath, the Will-equivalent to an exasperated sigh. "Who else could it be?"

I glowered at the darkness, trying to ignore a twig stabbing me in my thigh. "I resent that." I struggled to make it to my feet, conscientious of the sharp barbs I was trapped in. But it only took moving my feet for an arch of pain to shoot through my left ankle. I hissed out a breath.

"Are you hurt?" The condensation seemed less prominent in Will's voice all of a sudden, which did little to help the pitiful bird feeling.

It sounded trivial, and a little pathetic, complaining over my foot, especially so soon after the nosebleed incident. So, in an effort to preserve what little dignity I had left, I said, "Not at all, if you like the feeling of thorns."

"Ouch. That must be ugly in there," remarked Stacey, tone drenched in false sympathy. I managed to reach through the branches to the sill again and heft myself up. Using it as support, I turned around to find Stacy and Will standing not a couple yards away, just beyond the bushes.

"Oh, not really," I said, as I plucked off a broken twig peeking out from the top of my shirt along with a wayward leaf in my hair. "In fact, it's almost therapeutic."

"What were you doing anyway?" asked Will, and I caught a tinge of annoyance in his tone. Like he was irritated by my falling into the bushes and interrupting his little escapade with Barbie.

But then his question registered and I realized I had no answer and ended up staring blankly back at him. "Um. I was . . . looking. At Saturn."

It was evident Will didn't believe me but I hoped he would have enough of a soul to keep me from having to answer any further so I could die in my misery with relative peace.

But of course, Stacy saved him the trouble. "You really can't see Saturn very well without a telescope. And it's that way." She pointed at the area behind me, on the opposite side of the cabin.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to wince at the pain in my foot. I gave a slow nod, knowing there was little else I could do to save face. Defeat was, by this point, inevitable. "That must've been the problem, then."

"Taking a new interest in astronomy?" Will asked.

I resisted the urge to glower. Or whimper. It was evident he would not be letting me off the hook so easily. I was tempted to just tell the truth, but that would mean admitting to my spying, prying tendencies, and I'd much rather not do that in front of Stacy. My self-respect might have been reduced to that of a grain, which made it all the more precious and essential to keep. Besides, it would make me look even worse compared to Stacy, and my self-esteem was already at a very precarious state right now.

Somehow, I managed a casual, if not nonchalant, shrug. "A little. But it's clear I'm no good at it. I think I'll just . . . stick to tennis."

"Because that route has proven much more favorable," said Will sarcastically.

I shot him a glare. "It could if someone gave me a shot,"I muttered. "I only ever had tryouts. I never really got to play."

"Tryouts were enough to nearly make you concussed," Will pointed out, blunt. "Who knows what condition you'd be in by the end of the season? By the end of the week?" he amended.

"Won't know until I try. I mean what could possibly go wrong?"

"Says the girl who just fell out of a window."

"I slipped."

"Blaming your coordination does you no help."

"Then blame Saturn for not being where it should've been."

"You guys bicker like siblings," Stacy cut in, which didn't make me feel any better. I wondered if she did that on purpose, making our arguments out to be familial; Painting me in a sisterly light rather than in a potentially romantic one.

 _She's good_ , I thought begrudgingly.

"Well," I said, feeling thoroughly discouraged by this point as I shifted towards the window sill. "I'm sorry for interrupting your . . . walk. But it's getting late so I'm gonna just," I jabbed a thumb towards the still-open window, "turn in."

As if to demonstrate, I grasped the ledge and tried hefting myself up. It required putting weight on my aching foot which made it all the more difficult, and I didn't manage to get anything beyond my head and underarms where the rest of me ought to have been. Without the upper body strength, it was clear I wouldn't be getting through. I cast a look over at Will. "Could you, um, give me a boost?"

Even in the shadows, I got the impression he was raising a brow at me. "You want me to walk through thorn bushes just to help you through a window?"

I grimaced. "Well, when you put it like that . . ." I really didn't want him wading through thorns. Maybe Stacy could lend me a hand.

"You'll have to go around," said Will, interrupting that thought and I swung my gaze back to him. I considered the barrier of bush before me and frowned. I preferred the window to more thorns. But before I could say as much, Will let out a sigh. "Come on," he said, and grabbed one of the branches. He pulled it towards him, offering me a small path between the bushes to walk through. I eyed it questioningly. "Uh . . . "

"Hurry up."

I didn't want to keep him waiting, especially when he was offering me help. Or, as close to help as Will was willing to lend, but when I applied pressure on my ankle, that fire returned, and a sharp intake of breath escaped me.

Will's eyes flashed downward, accusatory. "I thought you said you were fine," he practically snapped in admonishment. I felt color stand on my cheeks, and was suddenly very glad it was dark. "It's just a bruise," I said with what I hoped was a flippant shrug. "It's not broken or anything."

"I guess we should consider that a blessing."

I scowled at the shadows.

That was when Will did something completely unexpected. He reached out across the barrier and the path he'd carved, and held his hand out to me.

My eyes lowered slowly and for a second I just blinked at it, dumbfounded. "What-"

He wiggled his fingers. "Come on."

I looked up at him in question, feeling my mouth hanging partially open. No touching was his number one rule, regardless of the fact we weren't living under the same roof anymore. But now, he was suddenly offering me his hand and I wanted to savor this moment, particularly when I managed to stretch out my own hand and place it neatly into his.

Contrary to his cold demeanor, his skin was warm and, more surprisingly, gentle, and a burst of heat shuddered through me. It didn't escape my notice how perfectly our hands seemed to fit together and I found myself actually grateful for my hurt ankle. Falling out of windows, it seemed, had its upsides.

He let me use his hand as a method of support until I was close enough for his other hand to grasp me by the forearm. My skin broke out into goosebumps and my heart started going nuts, knocking against my ribs like it wanted out. On the other side of the bush barrier, standing next to Will and facing Stacy, I suddenly felt my confidence gain the boost my foot hadn't.

With the close proximity, the density of shadow seemed to lessen and I was able to make out her expression. It was unreadable, but she wasn't giving me that fake smile I'd heard in her voice earlier, and took that as a promising sign.

"I can take her," Stacy offered sweetly, and I wrinkled my nose. An image of her thrusting me back into the bushes when Will was out of sight surfaced in my mind.

"It's fine," said Will, that annoyance still staining his tone. "Michael will be checking in with both cabins soon. It would be better if you went ahead and explained our absence."

It took pursing my lips to keep my jaw from dropping open again. Will and me. At night.

 _Alone._

I instantly felt my face redden to a blazing inferno, worse than any blush. I may have lived with Will, but we never found ourselves strolling someplace at night. Even if it was to deposit me around front. It was a good forty meters, which was forty meters more than I'd ever spent with him like this. Under a moon I could not see but was most definitely there, his hand in mine.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from hyperventilating.

The expression Stacy wore was priceless, if not a little frightening. I got the distinct feeling she was one of those people you had more reason to fear when they seemed perfectly calm. But she didn't argue like I thought she would, she just offered Will a tight smile. Her eyes flashed to mine, hard and glacial. I resisted the urge to shiver.

Stacy looked once more at Will before starting off and I watched her go with a mixture of elation and fear. I doubted this was going to help me any in her presence, but it was worth it. When she was gone, my gaze rose to sky and I took a deep, luxurious breath, imbued with pine and something very Will-like.

"What?" came his voice from beside me.

"The stars," I said, trying to keep the smile from my lips.

Will glanced up, following my gaze. "This is your first time noticing them?"

I shook my head. "No. They just seem different right now. Brighter."

"We're on a mountain with less light to obscure them. Of course they're brighter."

It was amazing how his little jabs took less of a hit when my hand was in his, like physical contact created some short of shield around me. Or maybe I was just too caught up in Dreamland to really care.

Will gave a small tug on my fingers, compounded with a sigh and I took that as my cue to start walking. It ended up being an awkward limp-and-jump as I navigated my way alongside him, biting my lip to keep away the grin bursting inside me.

"So . . ." I began, rifling through good topics. "How's class going?"

"Fine."

"Getting chummy with the professors?"

"They're good at what they do."

"In need of a cheat sheet yet?"

Will paused, just long enough to send me a deadpanned look, and I returned it with a small nod. "Guess that makes you a genius in college, too."

"And you're surprised by that?"

"By your self-deprecation?" I shrugged. "I think you could do a little better."

"It's just a fact."

"You do realize that anyone who didn't know you would think you were just a narcissist?"

Will cast me a glance. "Some of the most influential people had a narcissistic streak in them."

"But I doubt they died happy."

Will's eyes locked on mine and his expression seemed to blank, just for a moment. Then he blinked, and the mask was back in its place, all walled eyes that were impossible to read.

I resisted the urge to swing out joined hands, mostly because I needed the support and would otherwise trip, but also because this was a chance in a lifetime and I wanted it to resemble my fantasies as closely as possible. Which included the hand-swinging. But I wasn't about to make objections and step-hopped contentedly. I tried not to count down the meters.

"What are you smiling for?" Will asked, pulling from my reverie.

I glanced up at him, green eyes dazzling and close and real. There was absolutely _no_ fantasy of mine that could hold a candle to the thing itself. Particularly those two things. I cleared my throat and attempted to drop my smile, which of course made that endeavor all the more harder. In conclusion, I ended up sucking my lips in and trying to look contemplative rather than the giddy mess I truly was. I was pretty sure rainbows were doing cartwheels somewhere in my heart.

"Nothing," I mumbled, and cleared my throat again. "It's nothing."

"You smile at nothing?"

I shrugged. "It's better than frowning at everything. You should smile more."

I wished I could take the words back the second I spoke them, but they were already out of my reach. "Not-not that you frown all the time," I stumbled. "I mean, you do frown a lot, but I'm not saying it's a bad thing! Well, it isn't exactly a good thing because happiness is good and you sometimes don't look happy and you should look happy because things are not so very bad that you should not smile, right? But you are not a big smiler anyway and if you were to suddenly turn into one it would be atypical of you and honestly a bit frightening."

At Will's raised brow, I squeezed my eyes shut, cheeks blazing for an entirely different reason. Right words and I were like water and oil; we resisted each other.

"Frightening?"

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked up at him sheepishly. "You know what I mean."

Will gave no gesture of acknowledgement and we continued on, the yards between us and the cabin dissipating. I scrounged for something to say. Something to make this last just a little bit longer.

"So . . . Stacy seems to like you."

I cringed internally. Of all the things I could've said, it just had to be that.

"I mean she's . . . nice. And pretty. And smart. She's very smart. Do you think she's pretty?" I rolled my eyes at myself. "Why am I even asking you that? Obviously you must think she's pretty." _Stop talking. Stop talking now._ I pursed my lips into a tight line to keep any unwanted words from shoving their way through. Why'd I even have to mention her? I wasn't exactly being what others would call covert about it. _And now you've gone and ruined the moment._

Will came to a stop, and for a moment, I actually thought my statement had angered him. But he only twisted around, glanced at my dirt-sodden sock, and bent down. I watched, unblinking, as he released my hand and placed it instead on his shoulder as he gently lifted my foot and pulled the sock off.

The gesture stunned me into utter silence and I stood there like a one-socked moron gawping at the air.

"Stacy encompasses the ideal beauty standards most men desire in a woman," Will said nonchalantly.

I instantly felt my elation die a very swift death and I wilted like a flower. "Right. You're right."

Will glanced at me as he drew from his crouched position back to his full height. He suddenly seemed taller, like he'd amassed a few more inches within the last ten seconds. "You and Ian seem to be getting along."

The nearly indiscernible edge in his voice revived some of my elation. I felt a smile playing on my lips and I bounced my eyebrows up and down conspiratorially. "Are you . . . jealous?"

Will's expression flattened into the usual one he wore around me, the one that told me I was being ridiculous, or doltish, or both. Then he was leaning down, face closing in on mine until the color of his eyes was visible, even in the lowlight. His full lips were right there and all that fizzled out like a pinched flame. _Tssss._

A maddening smile curved his lips, a rare smirk that made me feel as if I had both lost and gained. "What would I possibly have to be jealous of?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but his closeness knocked the air from my lungs and kicked my heart into high gear. I was sure he could hear it, beat, beat, beating out of my chest.

It was made worse when Will grabbed my hand and coaxed it towards him, palm-up. I didn't know what he planned to do.

Until he deposited my filthy sock in my hand.

"You carry this. It's unsanitary." Then Will pulled back and faced forward, leaving me lightheaded and annoyed. I slammed my eyes shut and shook my head to clear it of Will smell, effectively knotting my hair in the process.

When I was finished, I huffed out air and glowered at his profile, which he met when he turned his eyes back on me, expectant, that smile still twisting his lips.

"Let me guess," he mused, his voice mocking, "You saw a bee."

I considered throwing the sock at him, but refrained. Especially when he held out his hand again, and being able to grab onto it for the second time in a row lifted me back onto cloud nine, where I stayed, floating over the remaining distance in a pathetically sappy daze, and thinking how people should really plant thorn bushes outside of windows more often.


End file.
